A Mess of Blues
by Original-Botticella
Summary: The events of DA:I fallowing a certain Inquisitor and Commander. f!mage!inquisitor!trevelyanXcullen. Full summary inside. Warning: ages 18 (This is a 'M' rated story after all)
1. Story Summary and Warnings

**TITLE:** A Mess of Blues

**SUMMARY:** The events of DA:I fallowing a certain Inquisitor and Commander. Katja is a smart-ass, witty (apostate?) mage. When not using her super mage abilities she dual-wields (b/c that is totally fun). And she hates being called by the H-word or the I-word. Escaping the Ostwick Circle at the tender age of 9. Fleeing to the Hinderlands where she remained for eighteen years in her solitude before going to the Conclave. Leaving behind her Trevelyan family; believing of their betrayal and indifference to her. Being taught to control her mage abilities from a lion spirit named Havardr. An old and wise one - protecting and teaching her. Even from herself.

Both suffer from past hurts and doomed fates. Fighting through unrequited dreams. Katja begrudgingly offering her services with the Anchor, not realizing her destined fate that she is soon fighting against. Will she accept the consequences or will, once again, be driven into madness? After all, fighting a crazed old-world magister covered in red lyrium would make anyone question their sanity.

**WARNINGS:** Rated **M** (aka **NC17** or **R**) for swearing, repressed memories, lyrium withdrawals, angst, violence, childhood trauma, nudity, and sexual situations. Lots of in-game spoilers‼ I have played and beaten DA:I, so I borrow from the dialogue, but I will chop and slash it for story sake. I'll mostly try to go through the behind-the-scenes with more detail than what is available per-cannon.

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

I make no money from this. All rights belong to Bioware. This is purely for entertainment purposes of my livid imagination.

**FYI:** I'm not the most dependable writer. I go through spurts of inspiration. However, I'm really into this story that I see blossoming, so with some creative discipline I hope to complete this story. With some impromptu kicking, screaming, and cursing it along the way.

Don't forget to fav/fallow and/or review! I _always_ appreciate feedback!


	2. All Shook Up

Chapter 1: All Shook Up

Long winded whispers coaxed her ears. Small shivers tingling into her brain. Small, fragmented lights speckled throughout the landscape. It was one that she was very familiar with - the Fade. The fragmented lights solidified into a teaming plain. Bright, blue sky; dry, yellow grass; and knobby trees with sharp orange leaves. She was familiar with this part of the Fade.

Was she dreaming? She remembered The Temple of Sacred Ashes, and then - she was running - from what? - a woman shrouded in gold light - being pushed outward - then... Oh no. Why couldn't she remember?

The speckles of light gathered together to transmute into the body of a lion. It was the size of horse with bright gold fur; plates of armor – dented throughout various battles – covered it's front paws, head, and body; his bright sun yellow eyes beamed wariness into her thoughts.

Relief flooded into herself at seeing a familiar spirit that has guided her through the years. "Havardr, what happened?"

"I know not. I large rift stands here and your world. Harmful spirits are pouring out and hurting you mortals. Look at your hand!" His exclamation made her jerk her eyes to hear hands, her left was glowing a bright green.

Without warning a burst of energy shocked through her system setting her nerves on fire. "What is this Havardr!?"

The Fade slowly started to dim - a precursor to her becoming awake. "You must seal it Snow Kitten!" Havardr's ethereal voice becoming faint, "The glass is breaking!" With another painful shock from the glowing scar on her hand, she was suddenly jolted awake.

Her red eyes flew open. Katja was completely covered in sweat - her clothes sticking to her skin.

Katja's body jolted into alertness. Dim lighting. Circle of soldiers. Weapons. Stone. Cold.

Her hands were bound.

No escape.

The soldiers skittered with their weapons pointing at her, leaving a small radius of extra sharp spears to gut her if necessary. She breathed deeply to calm herself. One wrong move with a room full of twitchy guards and she'll be pole-vaulted like a fish. She kneeled cautiously and slowly in the center of said twitchy guards with sharp spears.

No sudden fucking movements.

A guard suddenly left when nothing happened.

Feeling her back was lighter than what it should be, turning her head slowly she noticed that her daggers were missing from the sheaths on her back. One of them was expendable, but the other…

_If I don't get that dagger back, I swear I'm gonna cut off the hands of the bitch that took it._

Another wave of pain flashed a bright green. She cried out in agony. Panic flooded into her being. It was then that the door that would be her escape busted open filling the dark room with light and the silhouettes of two people.

The door closed just as quickly and a foreboding since of dread that she had not felt for years crept into her consciousness.

The two women – one in a mail robe with reddish hair and the other with short black hair and full armor – circled her like two dogs waiting for a kill.

The one with black hair spoke first, fury in her voice, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed everyone is _dead_!"

Katja unable to form words was rendered speechless.

Out of pure anger, the black-haired woman grabbed her left arm with the green mark – none too gently – and held it up to her face, "Explain this!"

As to emphasize the point the mark sparked, sending a small amount of pain into her arm.

Katja crunched her eyes from the pain but managed to croak out in a small voice, "I can't."

The woman was not happy with her answer, "What do you mean you _can't_?" she shoved her blasted hand back at Katja.

The red-head pulled the raven woman back, "We need her Cassandra!"

Trying to think of anything, she remembered her fuzzy memories before she passed out, "I don't know how it got there! I was being chased by – things – I ran into a woman who reached out to me – I don't know who – and then I was here."

That got the attention of the red-headed woman, "A woman you said?"

The raven haired woman – Cassandra – brought her attention to the red-haired woman, "Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will meet you there with the prisoner."

A questioning knowing look passed through – Leliana's – eyes. She knotted and departed the cell.

Cassandra pulled out a key and knelt beside Katja, undoing her metal bonds and replacing them with rope. Well who needs an upgrade right?

"What _did_ happen?"

She sighed heavily like a great burden was n her shoulders, "It would be better to show you."

She lifted her up with ease and pushed her outside, the guard at the door opening it. It was then that Katja saw it.

The sky had a huge gaping fucking hole in it.

Andraste's sweet teats!

It was a similar green as her mark and spouting energy throughout the landscape. It was then she felt safe enough to expand her connection – the Veil was damn thin. She could feel the demons that poured out from it. She had never felt it so heavy with the Fade other than her dreams.

This is bad. _Very_ bad.

"They call it the Breath. A massive rift into the world of demons."

_No shit it was!_

A strong pulse spouted from the Breach in time to when her mark shot pain throughout her nerves. She went back down on her knees in pain, trying to collect herself.

_Breath Kat, breath._

Cassandra went to her side and said with an edge on desperation, "Each time the Breach expands your mark spreads and it is killing you. It may be the key to closing the Breach."

"I'll do it."

She raised her brows surprised.

"Whatever you need me to do, I'll try. I sure as shit ain't sitting around while a fucking hole swallows the world. Even if you and everyone in Thedas thinks I'm guilty." Her red eyes blazed in determination.

The brusque woman had no words, only nodding in approval. She helped Katja to her feet – only a little more gently. She kept her hand on her arm and pulled her close. At first she was puzzled until she saw the huge crowed of shouting people. Cursing her. Calling her a murderer. Guards were posted to keep them at bay. The gate out opened as they exited the town. Once they were outside the woman pulled out a dagger and cut her bonds.

"There will be a trial, I can promise no more. The people mourn the most holy Divine Justinia, who died at the Conclave – they will lash out at you."

Katja rubbed the welts away on her writs, understanding her dire predicament and asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"To the forward camp, where we will decided what to do. But first we will test your mark on something smaller than the Breach."

They both fallowed the proscribed path to the camp. The soldiers looking more weary than the last. She could feel them shooting daggers at her as they passed. Twice on her way she had a stabbing pain in her palm. Each time she had to fight to get back on her feet. And a certain mabari heaving her up.

It was either boldness or stupidity that she asked, "May I ask where are my daggers?"

"I would be more concerned over your status of a murderer than a pair of daggers."

Sighing disgustedly, "If I'm going to die either before or after a trial, I would like to die with my blades on me."

After an impatient moment she responded, "Your blades are in our custody. That is all that will be discussed of weaponry."

_Well, at least I have an inkling of where they may be._

When they were crossing a bridge, a ball of energy blasted the bridge. With them in the middle. Sending them falling into the frozen lake.

A steady stream of curses flew from Katja's mouth as she landed hard on the thick ice. Black spots entered her vision on impact. She could taste copper in her mouth. With a loud groan she tried to sit up, her balance nearly shot along with her hearing.

Cassandra was back on her feet in a warriors stance, and Katja could see why.

Where the ball of energy impacted, demons came out.

_Oh shit!_

Without reservation the warrior woman lunged at the demons while shouting, "Stay back!"

What she didn't see was in the spot she vacated, a black mass formed. A demon sprouting from the area.

Quickly looking and getting on her feet, she looked for a weapon to defend herself.

Nothing. Not even a damn stick!

She pulled on her mana and made an twin ethereal daggers. The energy flowing in and around her hands. Running on instinct she fought the demon in front of her. Slashing and dodging until it succumbed. On her high, she raced to Cassandra's side and help to slay the other demons.

She held her blade to her.

"Drop your weapons!" she commanded.

Knowing she wasn't in immediate danger from being demon food, she exclaimed, "Alright boss!" she released the spell and the blue tinged blades vanished.

The warrior sighed, "No. I cannot protect you." She sheathed her blade, "You need a weapon."

She turned away walking and Katja fallowed, "I should remember that you didn't run."

Katja smiled, "Well, I did say I would help however I can. And I technically don't need a piece of steel, but it would be beneficial when I can't use my mana."

She made a slight disgusted noise. Wrong answer?

"Funny how you were asking for steel moments ago. And curious as to why a mage would want steel to begin with."

Oh Maker cranky.

"Because, those are my daggers. And it's good to be fluent in different disciplines."

Cassandra gave her a perturbed look but said no more.

The two women made their trek to the Temple. Fighting any demons along the way. Katja managed to secure a pair of daggers. Not the best but she would make use of them. No time for complaining.

The two found a rift and there were soldiers engaged with a hoard of demons. Both she and the warrior woman joined in. Not stopping until the last was dead.

A bald elf grasped her wrist and shouted, "Quickly before more come!" and with a flash of green light from her scared palm the Rift closed. No more Rift.

It sent on odd tingle through her arm, but no more.

"Good the rift is gone. You've closed it." Said the elf.

Is that what it was?

"Good to know this thing can be of some use."

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

Relief washed over Cassandra's face, "Meaning it could close the Breach itself."

"Possibly."

Well ain't this something. Katja may have earn a small respite at that!

"Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demon's forever!" A stout dwarf with brown-orange hair exasperated. He came up to Katja with introductions in tow, "Varric Tethras: Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He winked at Cassandra.

From Katja's short experience, the look on Cassandra's face was lethal.

Distraction! "That's a nice crossbow you have!"

The dwarf's face beamed, "Bianca? Yeah, me and her go a long way back. You'll need me and her when we head into the valley with Chuckles here." He pointed to the elf.

Chuckles? Hopefully that's not his name of the bald elf before her. Nick-name perhaps?

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra interjected while making a discouraged noise, "Your help is appreciated but we don't need –"

"Have you been in the valley Seeker? Your men aren't in control anymore you need me." He gave her a sly look.

Seeker? As in the Seekers of Truth?! More shit on her lap.

She made a disgusted noise and stomped away.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live."

Well, good, it isn't 'Chuckles' after all.

"Ah live?"

"He means, 'he kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric point-blank put.

"Oh."

From their Solas explained how he came to be within the party. Some of what he explained sounded familiar to her own travels. Being an apostate. Fade travels. Yeah, familiar alright.

Welcome aboard!

From there he explained how he doubted any mage (including herself) could possess any such power to create the Breach. Cassandra nodded, respecting his words.

"I'm Katja. Prisoner isn't actually my name."

"I'd hope not!"

They continued onward.

This is where she knew, despite being held prisoner and being shook upside down that this was really going to be a shitty day for her.

After fighting a small band of demons on top of a frozen lake, she slipped on a weak spot in the ice, fell backwards and her whole, lumpy head went into the freezing water.

Her body went into shock from the icy water.

She pushed herself up, coughing and spitting out the ice water that she accidently drank.

After a few moments of hysterical coughing on the shore and freighting from her compatriots some heart-felt intelligence seeped into her frozen brain.

"What's that coming out of your hair?" Varric stated.

It took a moment for her to realize what he was talking about.

The dye she put in her hair was dripping off. Slowly reveling the whiteness underneath.

"Ass fuck! This is the _worst_ day of my life!"

* * *

With minimal difficulty they managed to reach the forward camp where Leliana was having a heated argument with a 'glorified clerk' in Cassandra's terms. Grand Chancellor Roderick.

Nice.

Nothing like meeting her first Chantry member of note wearing a thick scarf (thank you Varric) around her head that was seeping out her wet, brown dye. That same dye that was smearing her face and staining the shoulders of her clothes.

She looked real appealing then. Extremely sexy.

Both Leliana and Cassandra managed to shoot him down. On both her prisoner status and retreat status, preferring to defer to Katja.

They could either go up the mountain pass or take soldiers through the trail directly to the Temple.

Er, why?

The mark! Right. And they must keep her alive.

Even though the mountain pass was safer, she wanted to get the whole ordeal over with.

The more direct way it is!

We made it to the Temple, the earth scorched from the explosion, bodies turned to hard ash – still as the moment of their death. The masonry burned black and scattered, few structures stood where walls, arches stood proud – now it was reduced to rubble. Leaving only the imagination as to what the Temple looked like pre-explosion of death and destruction.

The sounds of a loud and rigorous battle stood at the top of the staircase, the ominous glow of a rift at the top. Her hand glowed in readiness.

Defiantly a rift.

Katja ran toward the danger, knowing that the lives of soldiers were counting on her. It was her decision to bring them head long into the temple. She wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. Her possible execution was imamate in the future, but let it not be said that she didn't try to right a wrong.

A large throng of soldiers were engaged in a bloody battle from the demons pouring from the rift.

Time to close the bitch up!

Her and her ragtag compatriots joined in the throes of the battle. Lending a reprieve to the tired soldiers. Once the last demon was vanquished, Katja raised her hand to close the rift. Disengaging any further chance of demons coming out.

"Lady Cassandra you've managed to close the rift well done!"

A man with wavy, blond hair, sturdy bronze eyes, wearing ornate plate armor and a maroon cloak trimmed with black fur at the neck, and covered in demon blood addressed their group.

Templar.

He wasn't wearing the regalia of one, but the demeanor, the way he held his shield and sword, and the strong pull of the Veil – spoke volumes.

_Templar._

Panic seized Katja and flashes of old scars flaring up. It took all her strength not to run the opposite direction. Old voices ringing in her mind faintly.

_'Be good to me Kitty. I want to be good to you.'_

"Don't thank me Commander, this is the prisoner's doing."

"I hope what they say about you is true."

The templar's bronze eyes turned his attention to her. She really wanted to run at that point.

She snapped out of her trance when he spoke to her. _Shit!_ "I hope to be of some help." She rushed out. Wanting him to _go away. Get out._

He nodded, satisfied, "I hope so." He turned his attention back to Cassandra, "I'll take the rest of the men back to the camp. The way is clear ahead Cassandra. Leliana should be at the Breach shortly."

"Good. Pray we'll see you soon. Maker watch over you."

He nodded and dismissed himself. Katja didn't take her eyes off of him until he was out of eye sight.

They made it to the heart of the Temple. The rift was huge! And high up. Leliana made it to them unscathed fortunately.

Solas explained that if they closed the rift they could possibly stabilize the Breach. As they made their way down voices bled from the rift.

_"Bring forth the sacrifice."_

"The Fade bleeds here. It is merely an echo of what happened. That must be who created the Breach." Said Solas.

And the red lyrium. Serious shit. Even with Varric's input she sure as hell wasn't gonna touch it.

_"Someone help me!"_

"That's Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra exclaimed.

They were on their last steps down when they heard, _"What's going on here?!"_

That's when the vision of pre-explosion came to life.

Katja saw herself entering the room, where the Divine was magically bound and a smoky, shadow with red eyes stood next to her.

_"You must get out! Warn them!"_

_"There is an intruder." _Said the dark, smoke figure,_ "Kill her now!" _the figure pointed and the vision faded.

Well, that's explained a little. Though not much. Cassandra didn't take it well. She was shaking Katja for answers she didn't have. With their brief exchange, Solas examined the Rift. She would have to open the rift in order to close it properly. Luckily stop the Breach from spreading. Demons would pour out of the large Rift, the soldiers that were their stood ready.

With trepidation, she opened the Rift.


	3. Condemnation

Chapter 2: Condemnation

The effect of her opening the Rift was instantaneous.

Not only did Shades pour out by the buckets but a powerful Pride Demon crawled its way out. She hacked and slashed and used whatever magic she could to weaken the Pride Demon and residing Shades. Many of the soldiers had fallen by then. None of her compatriots had fallen by then. Owing to their experience.

That was when she heard a roar through the rift.

In that second, in a flash of light, a golden lion with armor appeared.

Katja raised her voice in glee, "Havardr‼"

The majestic lion spirit had a twinkle in its glowing yellow eyes.

"Did you think that I wouldn't be here to aid you Snow Kitten?" he purred at her.

She laughed through her battle-high and jumped onto his armored back.

She didn't bother to look on her compatriots surprised expressions as both she and Havardr attacked the Pride Demon. Him with tooth and claw and she with her spirit sword and bow. After the band's initial surprise did they join in the throng to bring down the Demon.

The Demon went down on one knee in fatigue and that was when Havardr leapt onto it, jaws secure around the demon's throat. In one violent action, crushed and snapped it's neck.

He roared in victory that shook the earth with her shouting with him, her ethereal sword raised.

She climbed down from her perch on his back.

With silent acknowledgement, he leapt into the Rift. Once he was gone did Katja raise her hand and the power flowed out from her mark. The moment painful, much more than the smaller rifts she closed. It felt as though her whole being was being sucked into the Rift.

Black spots dotted her vision as it dragged on. She went to one knee, from both the pain and fatigue. She vaguely heard voices but she was unable to discern what they were saying.

In a sudden movement, the Rift closed and so did her awareness.

* * *

The earth shattered and shook from the force of the explosion. Sickly green light popped and whirled from the Breach. The light that emanated from the Rift ceased. The Rift was closed.

The Commander sighed in relief. One part of the problem was solved.

All around him – soldiers, refugees, the injured – saw the closing and raised their voices high in joy. One battle was won. But from experience, the Commander knew that whatever war this was, it was far from over. There was much to do.

For now, he was more concerned about treating his injured soldiers and vanquishing any estranged demons – while fighting off a headache that sent pulses through his skull. He paced around the forward camp purposefully, giving orders and receiving reports. Keeping his mind busy off unwanted territory.

It kept his thoughts away from the Prisoner.

Many unanswered questions were left in the Commander's mind about her.

His templar training at full front when he realized, in the heat of the battle, that she was a mage. The Veil-pull was strong whenever she casted a spell – he even briefly admitted to himself that the ethereal sword she forged was amazing. He only ever saw that display with Knight-Enchanters. Another question for another time.

A messenger begged his attention, "Commander! Lady Cassandra and her party are on their way. They were spotted not far from here."

"Good, open the gates immediately once they arrive."

He put a fist on his chest and was dismissed to follow orders.

Moments later, he heard a commotion at the gate. He had to raise his voice over the crowd for him to pass through to Cassandra. What he saw put his heart on ice.

Cassandra was carrying the prisoner. Her face deathly pale and her lips almost blue. The green mark on her hand dim.

"Commander, we need horses immediately! We need to take her back to Haven so Solas can heal her." Cassandra rushed out; eyes darting, purposeful.

He didn't think, he reacted.

Shouting for the horses; running with the rest to the make-shift stables. Lady Cassandra took the two that was already saddled and practically leapt on one with the prisoner at the front. Solas and Varric on the other. With great speed, they rushed in a flurry of fallen, caked snow to Haven.

It wasn't until the next morning that he was able to get to Haven to get debriefed from Cassandra on what happened at the Temple.

What she told him put him on edge about the prisoner. Now, quite possibly the only person that could close the Breach was on death's door. Both Solas and the herbalist are doing what they can. They both agreed to pay a visit to see about her condition.

Outside there was a large crowd of people. Some whispering to each other about the person inside the hut-house. Through the crowd he was able to hear 'The Herald of Andraste is in there'. He mentally filed that in.

Inside the small hut-house, it was blazing warm from the hearth. Solas was hunched over her casting small spells on her injuries and the herbalist was making a potion.

She was bundled from the thick blankets from the bed. Her breathing ragged. From his memory of yesterday on the former-templar's mind – she had regained some color though not much, and there were dark circles around her eyes and her lips still pale. The brownness from her hair was gone, leaving a snow white color that hung limply from her head.

She looked like hell.

The elf noticed them and once he was finished with his spell did he approach them.

"How does Katja fair Solas?" she inquired quietly.

The Commander filed in the prisoner's name. Katja.

"Badly. She has regained only a tiny portion of her spirit and what is left is dim. That small spirit that is left is fighting furiously. Not only that, but the massive exertion from closing the Rift has caused physical wounds. We've managed to heal the most severe."

The Commander noticed the weariness on the elf's demeanor. He highly doubted that in the last day he got little respite – fearing the worst.

"But that is small in comparison to my larger concern."

"Which is?"

"Her mental wards against possession are gone."

Both the Commander's and Seeker's alarm bells were ringing. Old, templar training regimens repeating in Cullen's head.

"The necessary energy and concentration to maintain those have been poured into sustaining her life energy. I've tried a roundabout way to erect wards to protect her in her weakened state – but that has proved fruitless. Each time her spirit flares and attacks."

Both warrior's faces grew grim at the news.

"Is there anything at all you can think of that would help?" Cullen asked. "The last thing that needs to happen is for our only chance of closing the Breach it to be possessed."

"Agreed Commander. It is possible that she is residing within the Fade until she regains her strength to awaken. It is risky on her part, for she is weak enough to be possessed easily – without consent."

"Why would she choose to go to the Fade? Wouldn't she be at greater risk there?"

"Yes Cassandra, but I have a theory as to why. Remember that spirit that came through the Rift to assist us?"

The Seeker nodded.

"I gather from their reactions to each other that she is very familiar with this particular spirit. And that this spirit is protecting her in the Fade. What better way to be protected from possession than _by_ a spirit? You saw how easy it killed the Pride Demon Cassandra.

"I will go into the Fade and try to locate her." The elf volunteered, "However, I need you two to stand guard should the worst happen. Adan will monitor."

The stern, middle-aged herbalist stood with the potion that he was concocting, nodding his consent.

"I hope this works Solas. For her sake and ours." The Seeker tiredly stated.

All of them hoping that what Solas described was the case.

The Commander was weary of the elf's plan. He would admit that he didn't know that much about spirits in comparison to the elf. From his understanding and Cassandra's trust. Though he prayed that was the case. That the spirit as Solas described and Cassandra witnessed was indeed protecting the former prisoner.

_Katja, her name is Katja._

The elf took his place on the chair he was sitting at earlier and closed his eyes.

Both warrior's found perspective places to stand guard. Ready for any change – either for good or ill. The herbalist took a chair next to Solas and waited.

For a good while they waited.

It gave the Commander the much needed quiet to think on their situation.

It didn't stop him and his growing worry. She was a mage and she interacted with spirits. She was an apostate. Possibly a well versed and adept one. Never gone through a Harrowing. More than likely had a distanced tolerance of templars. Strange events of her coming to pass with the strange mark on her hand. The only survivor of an explosion that killed the Divine.

And yet…

He didn't think her responsible.

As strange as it may seem, he had a growing suspicion that she was not a part of it. A hunch. They all had too little information to determine anything, but he was certain she had nothing to do with it. More than unlikely.

He was still wary of her – the whole apostate mage part. Old habits are hard to break or replace. Cullen knew that not all mages are created equal. But it still left him with his suspicious nature toward mages regardless.

Now that he has seen her – moon hair and ruby red eyes – something stirred within him. Like a half-forgotten memory. A muffled, distant feeling within him trickled that she seemed familiar, but he couldn't place where or when. Just as the feeling came, it vanished like an old spider web in the wind. Leaving the lingering tendrils vacant.

Cullen went back to his old regimes when he used to watch mages during the grave-yard shift back in the Order. Playing chest in his head. He stiffened lightly and held the hilt of his sword when a headache wave came up suddenly. His chest game falling apart. Forgetting what moves he made, he mentally re-read reports that were given to him earlier.

The elf's face contorted to one of pain. All of them rapt at attention. Just as sudden as his face contorted did it fade back into calmness.

They continued their waiting game. Every once in a while the herbalist would check them and deeming them fine or would drip some water into Katja's mouth, then, would go back to his chair.

In the middle of the waiting session, Varric decided to pay a visit.

The dwarf's mood was grim and asked what was going on. In brief, informative sentences Cassandra filled him in. He too, took a spot to wait for the elf to awaken with either good news or bad.

Cullen remembered the dwarf. He was at Kirkwall with the Champion. Though, he admittedly knew little of him.

It wasn't until the room started to dim into a golden hue from the setting sun that the elf awoken from his dreams.

He took a deep breath, relief in his voice, "We can breathe easier now. It was as I suspected."

The tension in the room broke.

"Then that spirit is protecting her?" asked Cassandra.

"Yes, and the spirit's name is Havardr. We won't need to worry about her being possessed. There was already a pile of dead demons that have already tried." Respite and weariness in the elf's voice.

"That's a relief then." Said Varric in a more upbeat tone.

"Yes, considering that I was almost made tranquil when I tried to approach. She managed to halt the spirit when she recognized me." Solas said banefully.

"That… explains why your body tensed in pain earlier." The Seeker stated.

"Yes, it was … quite the experience. She said, in colorful terms, that she's sorry for making everyone worry and that once her strength returns she will awaken."

The dwarf got up from his chair, "Well Chuckles, when Kitten does wake up she might find she had shouldered more responsibilities than she is resigning to deal with."

The elf furrowed his brows in question.

The former-templar sighed, "There is a large crowd of people right outside this door. They are calling her the 'Herald of Andraste'."

Shock went through the elf's face as he gasped, "Oh."

* * *

Warmth, blessed warmth and comfort. Ease and tranquility.

Also a burning, ravenous hunger.

Her stomach growled fiercely; protesting it's emptiness.

Katja raised her eyes lazily. She felt like she had been run over by a Druffalo – several – multiple times. But, she did promise to awaken once her strength returned to her. It had and she was glad for it. For several days, she guessed, she spent in the Fade with a worrying lion spirit. It would have been more appropriate if he was in the form of a giant hen instead. She loved Harvardr, but he could be a worrier.

She tenderly stretched her limbs. Plying them out of soreness and disuse.

Someone opened the door and out of habit, she shot up to see who came in without knocking.

Katja's reflex scared the poor elf-girl into dropping the box she was carrying. Potions from the sound of the glass.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were awake!"

Katja focused her eyes and to steady her beating heart. She then came to a horrid realization.

_Who the fuck changed my clothes!? Where's my armor!?_

She was dressed in a supple leather tunic and breeches trimmed with gold buckles.

She came out of her thoughts when the elf-girl went to the ground in a bow.

In a worried voice she spoke, "I am but a humble servant. I ask for your forgiveness and your blessing mistress! If you need anything, you just need to ask."

That freaked her out when she bowed. Why would she _bow_?!

"It's ah, uh, fine. Is the Rift closed?" She tentively asked.

"Yes mistress. The Rift closed thanks to you."

She sighed out, it was as Solas said it was. "What of the Breach?"

"The Breach remains, although it is calm for the moment mistress." The elf-girl rose from her spot on the floor, and made small steps to the door, "Lady Cassandra said that if you awaken to meet her in the Chantry. 'At once' she said." And she ran out the door, leaving Katja to herself.

Okay Katja was a little freaked. From waking up with the possibility that some asshole made off with her armor. Armor that she put in some sweat to make! And that elf-girl's reaction to her.

She needed answers. Though she wouldn't get it from sitting in a bed. Even a comfortable, warm one.

Once she had risen, she stretched languidly. Her stomach growled. Upon closer inspection of the box the elf-girl dropped. It was some potions but also a small bowl of soup and a half a loaf of bread.

Oh _yes!_

That Cassandra can wait five minutes so she can scarf down some grub.

She ate the food merrily and set the box down on the desk opposite of her bed. Happy over having a full stomach she would gladly go and see what else is going on.

Eyeing the fur fennec cloak that hung from a hanger by the door, she dawned it and opened the door.

She nearly had a heart attack and wanted to melt into the snow clad ground.

Everyone in camp was looking at her. Their fists over their chests. Everyone – soldiers dawned in armor to peasants in cloth.

_Holy Andraste's teats_ …

She slowly made her way through the path separating both sides of the crowd. Eyes glued to her in reverence. The same people that earlier was cursing her – and from the whispers she caught – was now admiring her. She pulled the cloak closer around her to protect her from the intrusive, worshiping eyes.

"That's her, the Herald of Andraste." One would say.

"Who knew Andraste herself would send a mage to save us?" another would say.

As the whispered praise continued she slowly began to walk faster to the Chantry until the main body of the crowd was behind her. Heat flooded her cheeks from the unwanted attention.

Dodging into the Chantry, she closed the doors to block out the eyes of the crowd.

She took a deep breath. Hands on the door to keep intruders out. The Chantry was blessedly quiet. Didn't even hear the murmured prayers of the faithful. The light a little dim to encourage contemplation of the parishioners. Two fully armored guards stood idly at the ends of the doors.

"You've seen the crowd?"

Skin nearly peeled off of her. Katja nearly twisted her head off to the sound of the voice.

It was Cassandra.

She groaned, "_Someone_ could have warned me about that." Beside her was the Grand Chancellor and the templar.

"It's not like you deserve there reverence." Sneered the Chancellor, "Guards! Seize her, I want her ready to be transported to Val Royeaux."

She rolled her eyes, she the two guards by the entrance of the Chantry. They didn't have a care to move.

"Disregard that soldiers. Leave us. No one is to enter until otherwise." Said the templar.

They fisted on their armored chests and went outside.

Both the templar and Seeker glared at the Chancellor. He stomped off to the back of the Chantry. The three of them fallowed suit. Katja keeping an extra eye on the templar.

"How is your mark?" Cassandra asked.

"Well," she supposed, "it's stopped spreading and I'm not in pain every five seconds."

The warrior woman nodded, "Good, take victories where you can."

They went into the back room of the Chantry where the wooden door was promptly closed by the templar. She saw that Leliana was waiting patiently and the Chancellor continued his death glares at her. Which she mentally bounced off.

"You are all treading dangerously." The Chancellor sneered.

Cassandra's voice pressed, "The Breach is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

Katja rolled her eyes. So it seems she is still a suspect to the Chantry, "So even after I almost _died_ I'm still a suspect to you?"

"You most certainly _are_."

"No, she is most certainly _not_." The templar exasperated. "Why would she go through the trouble of causing all this havoc if she died in the process? I saw her when she was in her coma – she was practically at death's door. And from Lady Cassandra's account, she didn't even hesitate to aid us in closing the Breach even when everyone thought her guilty."

Katja was surprised at the rigorousness of the templar's defense of her. She felt an odd mixture of alertness and placidness. It was irrational of her to have those mixed feelings, and she knew it was because she saw him as a templar. Even when those small bits of evidence points otherwise. Not all templars were like _them_.

Though, she would try to explore it at a later date.

Leliana stepped forward, "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live."

That threw a loop into the Chancellor's brain, "_I_ am a suspect?!"

"You. And many others."

He pointed a condemning finger at Katja, "But _not_ the Prisoner?!"

"I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called out to her for help."

He shook his head in disbelief and crossed his arms, "So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand – all a coincidence?"

"Providence." The Seeker interjected, "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

A little too deep in Katja's eyes, "Ah, I am a mage ya know. An apostate one to boot."

"I know that." She frowned at her response, "Despite that, or your beliefs, you were _what_ we needed _when_ we needed it."

Katja saw her go to the back of the room to grab something.

"Your mark is still our only hope of closing the Breach." Leliana concluded firmly.

"That is _not_ for you to decide!"

It was then that the Seeker immerged from the dark corner of the room and slammed a thick tome with the mark of the Seeker embossed on the cover on to the table.

"Do you know what this is Chancellor?" she pointed to the tome with upmost seriousness, "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

The Chancellor's eyes widened at her proclamation.

The Seeker waved her hand authoritatively at him and told him in her most serious 'this is how it will be' voice, "We _will_ close the Breach, we _will_ find those responsible, and we _will_ restore order. With or without your approval."

The Chancellor, thoroughly chastened, left the room – slamming the door behind him.

"This is the Divine's directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos." There was no doubt in Leliana's demeanor of what the Divine wanted, but that task was daunting, "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice: we must act now. With you at our side."

_Ah, what come again? Me?_

"Ugh, what is the 'Inquisition of old'?"

She briefly explained that it was a group under a common banner predating the Chantry to keep order. It turned into the Templar Order but they have lost their way. A point that Katja agreed on.

"Is this a Holy War?"

That she could not say whether it was holy but it was defiantly a war. The war part she agreed on. Though, it did seem unlikely to her that it was even 'holy'.

Katja remembered her time in the Fade with Havardr.

He gave her cryptic messages about the goings-on in Thedas. That her niche in the world is about to change. She recognized it as fits of foresight that he was prone to. Though, in the past, they were small in comparison.

_"You stand on a precipice on a mountain Snow Kitten." His endearment ringing, "Multitudes of you clad in steel will stand with you as the sky burns. None of them as bright as you. The center of the fiery whirlwind is a shadow cloaked in red glass. With your scar pointed to the burning sky. Two choices you are given: Destroy or heal."_

She had a strange sense of compression as those words echoed in her mind.

The three of them were looking at her in trepidation – quietly holding their breaths.

Katja didn't like the attention. Though she felt on odd sense of what? Destiny? Divinity? She wasn't sure. She would hold off on the war-front, but that Breach thing was the forefront of her concerns. If she brought some semblance of peace to her home in the process? I'd be icing to the whole damn mess. Maybe getting rid of the mark on her hand along the way. Having a glowing body part would be troublesome when she would go out hunting.

"This is rather strange ya know."


	4. Crazy Train

Chapter 3: Crazy Train

It was boring. She was bored! It had been a few days since the Inquisition's decree of reinstatement. With Cassandra's boisterous voice demanding it. It was hard not to notice. There really hasn't been much for herself to do. She could go outside of her small hut-house. Unfortunately that would get her stares from the residents, recruits, and refugees. What she suspected was the amorous and worshiping kind.

No thank you.

Though she had tried.

She paid Varric a couple of visits (his stories were the best, even if they were total bullshit). Solas had some good mage advice and his stories about his Fade trips were interesting. She thought both the herbalist and blacksmith were gruffly adorable. Their simple, no-nonsense attitudes were refreshing to her. They would still say "Herald" or "Your Worship", but it more out of respect than idolarity.

So, much of her days she would sit on her small desk playing chest against herself. It was a poor substitute without a real opponent, but it was better than being told "There's a rift! Close it!"

The solace didn't bother her.

It was the fact that she would defiantly never be in charge. That her sole purpose with the Inquisition was to close rifts and eventually the Breach. Having a big hole that would obliterate you and everything else put her on edge. Along with waiting for the command that it was time to close said rifts and the Breach.

Thus, was making her twitchy.

She looked at herself at the small desk mirror.

Katja almost didn't recognize herself. She was used to having brown hair and styled in a braid. She had her tresses flowing down, off to one shoulder and the dye had came out during her excursion up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Thanks to her klutziness.

She almost forgot that her natural hair color was white. Katja didn't fathom why white of all colors. From her crystalline memories, she couldn't place a family member having white hair. Pale blondes perhaps, but not snow white.

_Who cares. They are a million miles away and they have forgotten me._

Her pale hair certainly gave golden hue to her tan skin and it brightened her reddish eyes.

Katja sighed dismissively, placed the mirror back in its original place and continued her game.

After five rookie moves she lost to herself. She sighed dejectfully and flicked the king on its side with a lazy finger.

There was a knock on her door.

Company!

"Enter." She called out a little too enthusiastically.

It was the little elf-girl after she woke up from her 'coma' after closing the huge Rift at the Temple. She was trying to have the girl open up a little. Having her skitter like a mouse was making her want to do the same. After a few run-ins she got a name out of her. Diliah.

"Y-your Worship," she stuttered, "Lady Cassandra and the other Commanders have requested your presence in the Chantry."

She raised her brows, "Did they say why?"

Diliah appeared stricken, "No! No! They didn't Y-your Worship. I cry your pardon, for I didn't think to ask!"

"It's alright Diliah. I'll find out when I get there." Katja got up from her desk, and told her, "Thank you for bringing me the message, you can go."

She bobbed her head up and down appreciably, "Yes, yes thank you Your Worship!"

She briskly made her way towards the Chantry temple. Trying not to let the ogles and whispered praise get to her. Once she got inside the temple was she allowed to breath. There weren't many people worshiping so she was able to quietly make her way into the self proscribed 'war room' as she called it. Sounded better and more intimidating than 'where the big-wigs go to chat'.

Katja entered the room and closed the door.

Just as she thought, Cassandra, Leliana, the Templar/Commander (because she still hadn't caught is name), and a stranger in purple and gold clothes were around a huge ass map of Thedas. Metal pieces were placed in certain locations, mostly in Fereldan.

_Hurry up and tell me where the rifts are._ She thought to herself impatiently.

"Good you came in time. We were just discussing our next move. Before that, proper introductions are in order." Cassandra went around introducing those in the room and their titles.

Leliana, the Spymaster – which was tactfully put.

Cullen, the Commander of the Inquisition's Forces – simply because of his Templar training.

And, Josephine, Chief Diplomat and Ambassador – the Game extraordinaire.

Impressive.

"That's a heart-warming bunch of titles, but I have to ask: Why did you ask me to come Cassandra?"

"I'm more adapt to answer that," Leliana said, "We've received a letter from Reverend Mother Giselle asking for a meeting with you Herald."

Katja heard what the spymaster said but hearing a 'superior' call her Herald made her twitch a little.

She groaned – thought not unkindly – and stated, "If you would please call me something other than 'Herald'? 'Druffalo dung' would be a better replacement."

They all looked at her funny – or at least funny to her. If she was any good with facial expressions, it looked like they were having bowel troubles.

She sighed, defeated, "'Katja' is my name. Just, ya know, in case it isn't known." They were still looking at her funny, though a little less, "Anyway Leliana, you were saying about the Mother? Why would she want to meet me?"

The strange reverie of the group broke as Josephine interjected, "Well, the Chantry has decreed us heretics. More specifically you… Your Worship."

Internally twitching a little. _Can none of them remember my name?_

"In her invitation, she told us she will give us a list of Mother's names who would be more amiable to a meeting with you." Leliana responded, "It is my understanding that she is more of a reasonable sort, along with those who would be willing to have a meeting.

"She's currently in the Hinderlands assisting the wounded from the renewed war-efforts of the rebel mages and templars, theirs heavy fighting there." The spymaster reported.

The Commander snorted, "The real rebels are in Redcliffe seeking shelter and the templars have been given orders to head back to Val Royeaux. The ones left are deserters who don't care who gets caught between them. Both parties have washed their hands of them."

Katja sighed disgustedly, "Yet neither side is willing to pick up their leftovers. Even if it wound up on the floor."

Cassandra nodded, "It would be beneficial to the Inquisition's cause to stabilize the region. As much as I dislike it, to clean up those leftovers of both parties. And along the way, close any rifts."

"Most certainly," Josephine interjected, "it would help the blossoming reputation to quiet the war on that end. And it doesn't hurt that in the process we protect Mother Giselle. Heretics wouldn't protect a rival after all. Her knowledge would help us immensely when we try to appeal to the Chantry for support on closing the Breach."

Katja raised her eyebrow, "It just seems odd that a Mother would try to help us. We are being called Heretics."

"Well, you are the face of the Inquisition."

_Did I just hear that right?! Me!_

"Whoa there mistress spymaster! All I do is wave my hand and _poof! _no more rift!" and to drive the point home her mark sparked lightly, "See! It even is generous enough to agree! Oh, and did Cassandra mention that I am a mage? Yeah, good idea having the face of the Inquisition be a mage with Thedas being war-torn from two opposing groups!"

"It isn't that. It's what the people believe." Cassandra interrupted, "when you came through the Rift, people saw a woman behind you – they believe that to be Andraste. That along with your ability to close the rifts and your extraordinary survival of the Temple. Well, you were what we needed when we needed it. They believe you are blessed. Which is why they called you 'Herald of Andraste'."

Josephine interjected, "Those that are following see you as a sign of hope in these troubled times. Despite whatever maybe the contrary."

"Well whoever is spreading those rumors must be privy to details that I don't know. I certainly don't remember how I got this Maker-damn thing on me or survived the Temple explosion."

"Be that as it may, you are the one everyone is going to be looking at." The templar said, er, Cullen.

She had almost forgotten about him! In her stupor of all times! He was just, standing in the back, watching the whole spectacle! He must be watching her – gauging her – determining whether she is a threat. And the way he phrased that sentence – yes! he was watching her! Her paranoia rearing it's ugly head. Her rationality flying out of her mind.

_Remember that not all templars are like _them_ Katja?_

Katja unconsciously folded her arms and shifted her feet.

"Well, they can look elsewhere." She said dismissively at the thought of being held in esteem.

"_Katja_."

The way Cassandra said her name that – no-nonsense, put up or shut up – way. Had her realize that it was going to happen with or without her consent. The reverence, the esteem, the … _fuck!_

_FUCK!_ _Fuck-Andraste-in-the-ass-and-cum-on-her-face!_ _No‼_

Whatever land this is, she wanted to be transported back to where shit made sense!

_I wanna go home! I want to be left alone! I want … not this shit!_

When she agreed to help them, she didn't expect _that_ out from them. She didn't think people would seek her out. Perhaps admire her abilities but never borderline idolize her. She really didn't get the whole 'Herald' title until then. People where looking at her as an earthly extension of Andraste and through Andraste the Maker.

She was considered Holy by those of the Inquisition. Perhaps no so much of those within the room, but outside the door… _damn_!

"Ugh… could we try to curb that? I'm not the most devout in the room." She requested meekly.

They all made varying degrees of faces. Katja hated not being able to read faces well. Cassandra knitted her brows toward Leliana and she tightened her lips. Cullen folded his arms and frowned. Josephine raised a brow and contorted her lips to one side.

_Could someone please tell me what they are thinking?_

This is the worst being outside the Fade. There you could project your thoughts and feelings without speaking, making facial expressions, or body language. It was the only way to communicate with a spirit accurately with depth. You could speak but the subtle points of conveying were lost with words. Here… she was as dumb as a runt nug without it. She could recognize some rudimentary gestures and faces. Other than that she hadn't been practicing that form of communication often. It wasn't necessary since she had little interaction with any other person.

That's where she would often get into trouble because of lack of vocal education. She didn't read underlying messages behind speech. Other than colorful swearing and witty remarks.

Perhaps she said the wrong line of words? Maybe throughout the whole conversation.

She understood that the Andrastian faith was important to others. Even when she didn't comprehend _why_. Katja spent her early childhood being indoctrinated with the faith, but after…. Well, it fell out of favor in her eyes. It was reduced to stories. Some rather good to her but the level of devoutness escaped her.

Katja would try what she wanted to say again. This time, more plainly.

"It's not that I don't think the faith isn't important to others. I would have pictured their 'Herald' as someone with more," what's the right word?, "divinity. Besides wouldn't me being the forefront of the Inquisition make it more… difficult? The most I could offer is closing rifts and whatever martial or mage skills I have. I have no spiritual or divine wisdom that being a 'Herald' of anything would entail."

She really wished she could project her doubtful emotions. Her reluctance of leadership. She honestly didn't think she conveyed all she wanted to with her words. But, that was as plain as she could place it. With a little reasoning.

Their normal positions resumed from earlier.

Success maybe?

"The Inquisition is already at a tough spot," Josephine conveyed, "all we have at this point is our reputation. Exercising that reputation will gain us allies. You at the forefront won't make it as difficult as it already is. If you are seen closing rifts and helping others it will only strengthen the Inquisition."

"She's right," Leliana agreed, "you're the strongest thread to gaining allies that would help our cause. Even if your title is based on the faith."

"And since you are the only one who can close rifts and possibly the Breach, we need to know your opinion to do so successfully. Since it will be you at the forefront to do so." Added Cassandra.

The templar, Cullen, nodded, "You won't be alone in that endeavor. We will all be here when it is needed."

So… she just needs to be seen? They aren't asking her to be the main leader of a rag-tag band of misfits seeking order? That her being called 'Herald' was a by-product of her closing rifts and established faith? Katja can call for aid when she was sent out. It wasn't her lone solemn responsibility. They were working together to help the world.

She could handle that. Though being called 'Herald' in her presence needed to be replaced. Along with the close second 'Your Worship'.

"Oh… I see." Was all she could say. Hoping that she understood what was expected of her. That she was also consenting in allowing to happen. She unconsciously relaxed her arms.

"Speaking of our reputation," Josephine brightened, "would you tell us your family name? It would help to legitimatize the Inquisition."

She folded her arms.

That… she was uncomfortable with. It's been… a long time since she thought about them. Deep, old hurts. She was uncertain how her family name would help legitimatize the Inquisition. It was just a name to her.

She dared to ask, "How could my family name help?"

"Even a modest family name could be beneficial. It would associate your family name with our own cause. And hopefully bring in an ally or two of your family." Josephine explained.

Family… the only family she could say would be Havardr. But she is speaking of her human family.

Whatever… it was just a name after all.

"Trevelyan. My family name is Trevelyan."

She did recognize the look on their faces: surprise.

"As in 'Katja _Ruthine_ Trevelyan'?"

Now it was her turn to be surprised, "Ah, yes. How do you know that Josephine?"

"My family trades with the Trevelyan's. They mentioned to me they had a daughter that… ah, went missing when she was a child and she was never found. You…"

_Lies_.

Katja looked at the floor – wanting to burn a hole into it. She felt her Veil-pull surge in her quiet scream. Any templar or mage within a mile could feel her.

She felt the Veil-pull of the templar in the room increase. Ignoring it as she fought to control herself.

She was always trying to follow through with Havardr's teaching of letting those hurts go. Not allowing it to control her emotions or mental state. It was a constant battle for her. Constantly gnawing on a dry, marrow bone like a mad dog. Emotional teeth worn and broken whenever it is mentioned.

She sighed, loosening her contact with the Fade, "It doesn't matter. Do as you see fit with the information Josephine."

The invisible tension in the room broke.

"I will send scouts to protect the Mother. We can convene until the bird arrives." The tactical spymaster improvised.

The emotionally-bruised Herald was grateful that the group wasn't pushing her on her lineage.

After the meeting was adjourned, Katja thought about who she would bring along the journey. She knew Cassandra would automatically go with her. Well, she could only think of Varric and Solas. Small rapports were built between them through their small conversations. Unsure of their decisions she went up to ask them.

Solas was her first stop, since it was him that healed her on two occasions and he was closer than the tavern was.

He was busily grinding herbs in steady, precise movements. His hut-house neatly clutter in instruments and piles of ledgers and tomes. Artifacts suited for an intellectual lifestyle. Along with jars of dried herbs and various liquids. Instruments made for his knowledge of healing. The warmth from the hearth emulated well into the small space. Along with sporadic candles that lit with even luminance.

The elf let her in.

For the next few minutes she explained to the elf the plans and, if he was willing, to accompany her to the Hinderlands. At first he was unsure as to why. After some reasons and reassurances on her part, he agreed.

Varric wasn't as hard to convince. He was half-way into his tankard at the Singing Maiden and happily talked her up about the Hinderland mission. Him and Bianca would lend their services without complaint. Somehow he had convinced her in the middle of the conversation to take a few swigs of the brew.

Leaving the Singing Maiden slightly tipsy and a chuckling dwarf behind.

The following day she grew restless with being cooped up in her hut-house.

She needed physical exertion. Remembering the training grounds outside the walls, she made it a date to pay those poor wooden men a visit. Bless her, she was trying to mentally block the reverence left in her wake. Katja felt the Veil-pull from the residing templars and a certain _one_. As long as they don't pester her, she will ignore them. With several paces as a buffer.

Cassandra already beat her to the training dummies.

The warrior woman acknowledged her mid-stroke. Katja would wait her turn, and she would have been alright with doing so. Silently waiting.

"What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life." She hacked all the harder at the training dummies, "One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right."

Katja realized the Seeker wanted a brief chat, and that was alright with her. She hoped her communication skills wouldn't hinder her. Like it almost did the previous day.

"You had to do it. No one, not even the Chantry is attempting to do anything right now. From my observation they will stand in fire and complain about it being hot."

She laughed bitterly, "Your right, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. We are the only ones that who can possibly close the Breach. And find those responsible and end them. I pray that the price isn't too high."

Cassandra sliced harshly against the training dummy, it's wooden left arm coming off and plopping down on the snowy ground, along with her sword, "'Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.' Those where the words my trainers always said. I countered that I know what must be done and I do it. No need to run in circles like a mad dog. But I... misjudged you."

"Well, you had cause Cassandra. Ya know: lone survivor after a blast, glowing body part. If it were reversed I'd leap to the same conclusion." If she were in the Fade, it would have been easier to reassure the woman. That the misunderstanding wasn't held against her.

She snorted, "You take it lightly, but I am glad to know you don't hold it against me."

"No problem. Besides there were bigger things to worry about." She was grateful she was succeeding in her verbal skills. Understanding is good.

"It has occurred to me that I don't know much about you Katja," Cassandra said as she slashed at the dummy target. "You've told little of yourself."

"Oh? Your old habit Seekerness coming out?"

She stopped mortified, "I wasn't -"

"Just teasing!" she interjected before she looked like the target dummy, "Go ahead and ask, as long as I can reciprocate. And be forewarned, some things," her voice went quiet, "are better left unsaid."

Cassandra nodded in understanding, and spoke in her direction, "You are unlike any mage I have seen, you wield magic with undo mastery – some skills would take years or decades for a Circle mage or even an apostate. It is obvious you are an apostate but the question remains: Who taught you?"

"It wasn't the Circle who taught me. It was that spirit that came out of the Rift. Solas explained him to you. Havardr is a wonderful teacher. He's… thorough."

Slim brows knitted together on the Seekers face in what she guessed would be consideration, "I know little of spirits. It is my understanding that they have the potential of possessing people, predominantly mages because of their Fade connection. This spirit has never tried to?"

"Nope. Not once. The vast majority of spirits are content on _staying_ in the Fade. Pursuing their interests or whatever niche they occupy. It's a shame that the small group, which coincidentally causes the _most_ ruckus, are the ones that gain attention and study over. It's like… writing a history book on Thedas but only Antivan silk is the main subject. Does that make any sense? Or am I rambling?"

Cassandra stopped her mock hack and slashing in what Katja could guess, was contemplation.

"And _what_ exactly has this spirit been teaching you?"

"All manner of subjects! Mathematics, sciences, swordsmanship, and he'd go on about philosophy. My favorite was smithing. The whole idea of making and crafting something fascinated me."

She resumed her melee, "How long has this spirit been teaching you?"

She had to think on it, "My earliest memory of him was at 5 years of age. As for teaching me, that came about within my short tenure at the Ostwick Circle. He's been the only constant in my life."

"Then what is your life? What's your story?"

Old hurts started to flare, Katja knew she wasn't asking out of meanness. She kept her face and emotions neutral, "I'll say it so it can be out of the way. Morica and Roderick Trevelyan are my parents. I was sent to the Circle at Ostwick at age 7 – after I accidently burned some Orlesian drapery." She laughed softly at the memory, "Two years later I escaped the Circle and lived near the Hinderland mountains. Though I have traveled across Thedas – I didn't want to draw too much attention. Being an apostate and all.

"When the Blight came ten years ago, I was in Ferelden and a little too close to the source in the Kocari Wilds. I managed to flee and stay away for it's duration. I returned to the Hinderlands, and the rest of Ferelden, and lived their happily as I could until I heard of the Conclave. And it's been shit ever since." It was a brief summary of her life, one that she was safe in telling to just about anyone. Although it wasn't the whole story.

Cassandra showed mild surprise over her brief tale, "You must exaggerate like something out of Varric's tales. You escaped the Circle at age 9? How did you go from Ostwick all the way to the Hinderlands without being caught?!"

Katja smiled smugly, "It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Believe it or not, I was caught twice near Denerim but I made sure there wouldn't be a third time. Havardr was my guide."

"What of your parents? Surely they would have sent someone in search of you."

She ground her teeth from rage, "We... _won't_ speak of them."

Cassandra, surprised by her sudden ire, dropped the subject. She recalled what Josephine had asked when the subject about asking her Trevelyan relatives for the Inquisition's cause.

"Tell me Katja. If you enjoyed living apart from the Circle. Why were you at the Conclave?" Cassandra questioned.

Katja furrowed her pale brows over bright, passionate red eyes, her earlier ire dissipated, grateful she wasn't pushing, "I grew tired of hiding. Worrying if Templars were around if and when I used magic. I learned more _away_ from the Circle that I ever did _within_ it. No one deserves to be locked away just because of what they are. And... for other reasons." her face grew distant as old, painful memories surfaced in her mind.

Cassandra chuckled, "I still find it hard to swallow that for 18 years you've avoided detection from the Templars. You don't exactly look common in feature." She said referring to her reddish eyes and snow white hair. "Not only that, but you are a noble girl – despite being a mage."

"That's why I avoided the towns when I could, but I found a way to change my hair color – without magic – and you wouldn't notice my red eyes unless you were close enough. When the Templars did eventually come to the Hinderlands, they were looking for a noble, mage girl with white hair and red eyes but what they saw was a scrawny, mute, orphan girl with brown hair covered in dirt. No second glances."

"Ah, that would explain that when you fell into the river, your hair reverted back to its original color."

Katja smiled, "Yes, and it feels good knowing I don't have to do that process after a bath. Kinda pointless now."

Cassandra grunted in affirmative, "Yes, that would. Leliana would be interested in hearing that part of your tale. She's always looking for ways to better her network." She did a mock hack and slash at the training dummy before speaking again, "What do you intend to do after all of this is finished?"

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise, and gave her most honest answer, "As long as it's doesn't evolve a Circle, I'm fine. Although..." she trailed off to one of longing, "I would love to go back to my mountains in the Hinderlands." She sighed, "Now, if you are done abusing these poor men I would like to take a swing."

"Of course."

She smiled slyly while getting in her 'battle-ready' pose, "Now Lady Seeker, this is how you whip a man into shape."

From there, it was reciprocated on Katja's part on learning about Cassandra. While she was simultaneously slashing, igniting, freezing and/or zapping wooden men in a feminist rage. Great team players.

Unbeknownst to Katja, the Commander of the Inquisition's Forces listened with some interest to the conversation between the two women.

* * *

**[A.N.]** A special thanks to Alexifel, Creative Lunatic, Dragonfire81, Elitheginger, Schizophrenic-unicorn, lizewert83, secret . geek2009 for either following or faved! :)

I'm also working on some art DA:I related and will post some links when it becomes available. Good day to everyone!


	5. Vicarious

Chapter 4: Vicarious

It was taking longer than expected for Katja's patience. Couldn't be helped though. So, in her fit of boredom, she found things to do for the camp in the form of requisitions.

Need logging stands, a local mine, and a local quarry? Done.

Her most fun adventure was hunting.

She was a total pro-badass at it.

Apparently some of their shipments of food was running late and their storages were almost depleted. No one _asked_ her to go hunting. She just took it upon herself to do so. From her understanding amongst the rumblings of Haven, they had no skilled hunters to fetch some of the local wildlife.

Quite happy she got her daggers back after their first war room meeting. Without them she felt vulnerable. Especially her most prized one – Cat's Tooth – a blade she has carried since she was seven years old. A secret gift.

By mid-afternoon she had caught three Druffalo, five rams, and fifteen nugs.

The look on some of the locals faces when she asked to use their transportation wagons.

Well, she had to get her kicks in somehow, right?

Those she had built a small rapport with was certainly surprised. Well, she had to be a skilled hunter to live out in the wilds nearly all her life. It was either that or starve. Sometimes even stealing some wheat and carrots from an ornery old-farmer. She didn't use her mage ablities when she wanted to hunt. It took the joy of it and value away. Along with the whole 'templars are out to get me' mentality.

In a way, she felt it was her obligation to make sure those of the Inquisition was cared for. If she was consenting to be the primary face of this band of order-loving misfits, she would make sure they were taken care of. It made sense to her that if they wanted to keep whatever supporters, soldiers, whoever, that keeping their bellies full should be the covered as a base necessity. That it was her duty that they were at least fed even if it meant that she went trekking in the wilds to bag some game.

That was her basic reasoning when her band of team players asked her _why_ she went out hunting. All of them gave her strange looks to her. Again, annoyed at herself and her lack of social education. She was sure that they approved of her attitude and reasons about it. Hopefully. They didn't out-right disapprove. Not even the templar – Commander – Cullen. That guy.

The next day the bird arrived about Mother Giselle. The scouts that were sent were protecting the Mother and the refugees at a local village. The Commander having already sent soldiers, thirty in total, were being stationed within the village itself to help secure the residual area from the war and aid the refugees. If they ride hard the following morning they will meet up around the same time as the soldiers to seamlessly secure the village. A plan was quickly formulated and the fallowing morning the four of them – Varric, Cassandra, Solas, and herself – set out to the Hinderlands on horseback.

Glad to be away from the ogles of Haven and the confinement that came with close proximity of others. She breathed the clean air. Not a whiff of smoke, cooking, latrines, or general habitation of people.

That changed once they neared the Hinderlands.

The landscape had changed drastically the last she was here.

It was generally peaceful here until the war came calling. The far off cries of war echoed in the hills and trees and water. Patches of heavy smoke in the distance polluted the sky and air. It wasn't everywhere, but where it was blotted the landscape like lesions. She was both angry and sorrowful. Though she could understand the frustrations that lead to anger on both parties. Even when her anger _after_ never got to the point of filling the world with fire and sword.

It was very close though.

Seeing the state of this small piece of the world made her more resolute than she previously was to see that the war of mages and templars come to a close. Maybe along the way, heal bits of herself that were being stubborn.

She met up with the scout party and was debriefed by Harding. A dwarf woman with heavy freckles, yellow-orange hair, and informative demeanor. True to the Commander's words, the thirty soldiers were right behind her group – an hour's march. Having ran into them along the way. Not wanting to wait for them, she and her compatriots set out into the village, aware of the fighting just next to the village where Mother Giselle resided.

She was familiar with the particular village through her sporadic visits. Often to sell leftover meat or hides she didn't need for coin or barter for other items. It infuriated her like the flames from casted spells on the burnt earth.

Once she and her rag-tag group came near the village where they instantly attacked by both mages and templars. True to the Commander's word, again, they didn't care who got caught up with their skirmishes. They fought them off, killing every last one that raised a staff or sword to them. Uncaring that Cassandra cried out that they were not part of the fighting.

Katja hardened herself at the sight. The senselessness. In her heart, if things were different, when she was much younger and ruthless, she would have been one of them. She would be one of these angry, power-hungry, dead mages. At one point she was _them_. She kept those thoughts to herself. Never thinking she would have those feelings and thoughts. It disturbed her.

Through some words with the refugees, who were grateful for their intervention, pointed to where the Mother was.

Mother Giselle was found among the wounded. At the time, convincing a soldier to allow a mage to heal his injuries; which he reluctantly agreed. Once that was done did she acknowledge her and her companions.

Katja detected an air of weariness with her. She could sympathize with current events.

"You must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste." The demur Mother asked softly.

She sighed, "Correct, even when I don't want them too." Mentally rolling her eyes at the thought.

The Mother nodded and led her away from the injured.

"I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…"

Her thoughts went back to the bodies of the mages and templars she killed earlier.

"It wasn't the best time for anyone."

"Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

Katja cocked her brows, "That could possibly make it worse. And to boot, a mage coming to their doors."

"Let me put it too you this way: You needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is a unified voice against you. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need what you need to do for the Breach."

Katja groaned at the prospect. "Why do I get the feeling it's not that simple?"

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope. And many others do. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us."

Katja had another sense of time compression. Havardr's words ringing in her head _"With your scar pointed to the burning sky. Two choices you are given: Destroy or heal."_

"Your reinforcements will suffice to bring aid to the village. And the remaining sisters will tend to the wounded and refugees. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do what I can."

Thinking on what Mother Giselle said. She just needed to make them 'doubt'? How was she going to do that? Once she got back to Haven she would discuss it with the other team players.

It would be over a two week interim before she returned to Haven.

There were so many things to do!

She didn't realize the magnitude of being the face of the Inquisition would do to her. Her compatriots and her were constantly on the move. They would take some respite for a few hours, but never too long before resuming onward. It compounded on her mind that this was her duty. That so many trusted and believed in her. Tendrils of fear creeping into her mind. Doubts settling.

At first she was glad to take it on.

She close many rifts. Convinced the Horse-Master Dennett to supply horses to the Inquisition – all that remained was giving the players in Haven the map for the towers. Supply caches and food for the refugees and locals for the villages. It filled her with pride. Knowing she's fulfilling a purpose. Years of solitude couldn't grant her that.

But as the days went on she turned inward.

Especially when they gathered information on the hide-a-ways for the rebel tempars and mages.

She, along with the rest of her party, coordinated an attack plan with the soldiers Cullen stationed to clean them out. Though she hated the term 'cleaning them out'. She reasoned with herself that it was necessary, neither parties would see reason. That if they didn't do it, both parties would continue until they killed themselves along with most of the population. The heaviness of her station sinking in.

Havardr gave her small comforts in the Fade when she slept.

"Do it the right thing Snow Kitten for the right reasons. Even when you highly dislike the decision. I speak from experience. It comes from simply existing. Don't let the act itself discourage you." Images of blood and gore washing away from rain. Bright grass and tall trees replacing the disharmony. "Life will return. Peace will come back, it always does." Katja felt his absoluteness and certainty – hard, stony and stubborn knowledge. "Now that those rebellious mortals are gone, guess what take place for the ones who had to flee?"

She thought, colors and images flashing, reflecting her thoughts – discord in her thinking until it solidified. Mortals returning. Building homes. Laughing children. Healing wounds. Physical and mental happiness. Red and black emotions softening to pinks and yellows. Warmth and safety.

Satisfaction radiating from the lion spirit. "Keep going Snow Kitten."

He even made her laugh a few times.

During these excursions of helping the Hinderlands, she was able to exhume some knowledge about the templar Commander and Leliana. Though, if the truth must be told, she was more interested in hearing about the templar. The Leliana front was a small bust on her. The was the late Divine's left hand and knew her before she ascended to the position. Now to ease into the blond templar.

"Who Curly? The ladies are just keeping him around because he looks pretty." Varric chuckled at his own remark.

_Curly?_ Katja was starting to question Varric's sense of self-preservation with the aliases he was assigning certain members.

Groaning in disgust, Cassandra corrected him, "Cullen _was_ a templar Knight-Captain and de facto Knight-Commander in Kirkwall. He no longer associates himself with the Order. I offered the position of Commander to him before the Divine's death."

"I remember a few run ins with him in Kirkwall." Varric added, "He could be a prickly guy. Though, he did technically turn on the Knight-Commander when she threatened to tear Kirkwall's mages into tranquil. And those years after that, well, it wasn't easy for him I suppose. Kirkwall was a hellhole after that, and I'm from there. That guy really did try to maintain some semblance of order."

"Yes, some of us are aware of that story Varric." Katja noticed that her face looked like the equivalent to something that had a raunchy odor in the air. She guess that was a bad subject between them.

"At any rate," she continued, "Cullen is an intelligent and cautious man. His years as a templar have hardened him in the ways of battle – as with most templars. Also, his knowledge of the inner-workings of the Order will be beneficial should any templars wish to come to the Inquisition. I highly doubt any sort of short-comings from him."

The information was… surprising to Katja. Though, she didn't exactly know _what_ to expect about him. Perhaps one day she will explore further with more direct questions at the ex-templar – Commander. For now her curiosity was satiated.

Unfortunately, that curiosity would have to wait.

When they did eventually return to Haven, Joesphine and Leliana had already made use of the information that Mother Giselle presented for the Inquisition. A meeting was set up in Val Royeaux in three days time and the very next morning they would, once again, need to set out on horses.

There was a petty squabble between the resident mages and templars the evening of their departure. Grand Chancellor Roderick lending a voice to the throng. She was just passing through when she heard the commotion. The Commander attempting to break it up. Now wasn't the time for heated debates between these two groups. Especially for her since it was just days ago troves of them lay dead in the Hinderlands.

She was in no mood for their hysterics.

Raising her Veil-pull, both opposing groups took notice of her. Their 'Herald'. She noticed their angry faces instantly slacked in her presence. Now was the time to put them to bed.

"Is this the late Divine's legacy? It is my understanding that she was a promoter of peace between both of you. Of everyone. Instead of raging at her death, celebrate her life. Don't let her pass on to the Maker believing she failed you all."

The words lifted from her mouth without consent. Fear flooded into her being. Her uncertainty with words made her clutch her hands together. Her heart started to race. Fully aware that several dozen eyes were looking at her, along with the surprise of a bronze pair.

Mother Giselle's words echoed in her mind_, "The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other."_

The two groups poses slackened from their tightness. That was good for her to see.

Though it had the opposite effect of the Chancellor.

"Her legacy wouldn't have been cut short if it were not for you! This Inquisition is not sanctioned! All of you are heretics!"

Her nose caught a whiff of fear from the Chancellor. Fear she read well. Fear she knew how to dispel.

"Perhaps were are Chancellor. We 'heretics' are extended our hands to everyone, even to those who would burn it. We need no sanction to offer aid and protection. Is it necessary to sanction kindness? Compassion? Food? Shelter? I doubt the Maker or Andraste would allow any one of us to go that low. Even when some of us squabble." She eyed the templars and mages. "As for what happened to the Divine, the Maker has made it a priority to keep that knowledge hidden. I would gladly offer some comfort as to what happened to her at the Conclave. However, at this moment in time, only the Maker knows."

"As if the Maker would allow such a thing to occur! The Chantry will find out who killed Divine Justinia."

She sighed, he was becoming a nuisance, "Yes, they will once they open their doors again. Though, by that time, there won't be anyone who will walk through because the world is falling apart and killing itself. That is the Inquisition's purpose. To make sure there are those to walk through the door. No matter who that may be.

"Now," relaxing somewhat, though she was still perturbed, "if the Inquisition's mages and templars are done voicing their fervent opinions, I ask that they retire for the night. And hopefully, have clearer and more level heads the next time they want to be passionate on their views."

The whole courtyard was silent.

Many of the templars and mages looked at the ground. Slowly, they dispersed. Along with the Chancellor, though he still looked at her like she was smelling foul. Maybe she needed a bath?

She let out a breath. Her hot nerves from speaking to such a large group quenched. Though it didn't quite cool since the ex-templar, Cullen, looked at her in a relaxed expression. At the very least close to it.

"Thank you, " he nodded and shifted his stance, "I thought I would have to resort to calling some of the soldiers to break them up. You did very well with handling it."

Katja clasped her hands, "Yes, ah, well, they were being rather loud. Plus, I didn't want to wake in the morning having Haven burned to the ground." She was trying to lighten it up, but speaking to him still made her nervous.

"That they were, it possible that everyone in the Frostbacks heard them." He cocked a brow and the side of his mouth that had his scar upturned in a crooked grin.

She blinked at couple of times. The crooked grin pulled on something within her, it wasn't unpleasant but she mentally willed it away. Pushing the confusing sensation down into her mental depths.

Was he… did she detect… humor? That knocked her into a loop. She was certain that it was humor, but with her lack of social interaction it was possible she was misinterpreting it. Gathering some courage, she decided to test it.

"If their voices were used against darkspawn the Grey Wardens would have some hardy competition."

The Commander snorted a laugh. He had a sense of humor. She added that to her list about him.

"Well, Herald, this has taken up enough of your time. I wish you a good night's rest for tomorrows journey. Maker knows you're going to need it for Val Royeaux."

Scrabbling for a sentence, "Ah, you as well Commander. Though I ask that Haven won't be torn down on my return."

He nodded sternly, "It will still be standing."

She started to turn away, but remembered why she was coming into the Chantry.

"Oh, ah, Commander." She called out in realization.

He stopped his turn-a-round to regard her, "Yes?"

She nervously reached into one of her leather pockets to produce a parchment and she handed it to the Commander. He took the paper, the leather from his glove caused a spark of electricity that ran up her arm and into her head when he touched her finger tips. Screaming internally that a small bit of _himself_ was _in her space_. That touched _her_.

His brows furrowed at the folded piece of parchment.

Mentally scrambling for words. "It's a map. Of the Hinderlands."

He cocked his brow. He was silent. More?

"I met the Horse-Master there. He agreed to join the Inquisition and supply horses if we built three spotter towers at the points I marked on the map. Could you, ah, see to their construction?"

Mentally screaming at herself over giving the map to him. Quickly coming up with a reason, "We don't have a reputation to convince a noble or have enough coin to have them built by a third party. Which is Josephine's area. And Leliana, well, she is a spymaster, secrets and stealth are her forte. Ah, armies build stuff right? Siege equipment and the like. And occasionally tearing stuff down."

_Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! You stupid bitch why go and –_

The Commander chuckled, stopping her mental rant.

"Very true Herald. Seems a fair trade to earn a Horse-Master and his horses with spotter-towers. We have some soldiers who are familiar with construction. They'll use local timber and mortar for the buildings themselves. I'll get on it right away. Thank you Herald, this will help the Inquisition immensely."

She nodded, turned on her heel, and stiffly walked back to her hut-house.

That night she could hardly sleep. The incident earlier grated on her nerve-memory. The words between her and the ex-templar, Commander, Cullen, echoed vibrantly. Leaving the inside of her mind itchy. Well, it was as close as she could come to it anyway. It was a sensation wrapped around her mind. Dubbing it as 'itchy' was the closest she could describe it.

She hated shifting through her emotions. It wasn't necessarily her _emotions_ that she was frustrated with. Katja was _uncertain_.

Once thing that she hated most was uncertainty. Not the world per se, that just gave her headaches. It was _people_. She wanted to always be certain about someone. If she was consenting to being the face of the Inquisition – thanks to her stupid mark – she, at the very least, wanted to be certain about the people associated with it. That she could trust them.

But that was another problem she saw in herself. She was inherently distrustful! It had lessened to some extent the older she got. However some things got automatically in the 'distrust' pile.

The Flaming Sword was still up round the Commander. Even a bent and chipping one. Her stubborn paranoia around that insignia was still tight around him.

_I will dispel this stupid-ass-fuck uncertainty. Just as soon as I get some damn peace!_

* * *

The Commander sighed quizzically. The map that Trevelyan produced was of exceptional quality! It lay on his desk within his tent, neatly unfolded – Cullen staring at it to peal it's secrets.

Through his trained eye it was most certainly made while out in the field rather than a procured map from a vendor. It was the type of field map that he would see with highly trained scouts (which the Inquisition lacked) or templars. The map had that level of detail. However, lacked the type of detail that vendor maps would sell. Those would take days of tediousness to produce.

He would have to ask her later.

The level of nervousness she expressed puzzled him as well. The astute man could tell from her hand gestures her nervousness. Templar training at the forefront – he must see his target and gauge reactions with a wide perception to see it all as a whole. Perhaps she was unsure that building simple spotter towers was in his field of expertise? It was those types of gestures he noticed with her in their brief interactions. Her face would remain neutral otherwise. A nervous tick he reasoned.

He was most certainly glad for the her production of the map. A Horse-Master and whatever horses he had was invaluable seeing as they lacked both.

Not only that, but her welcome intrusion with the argumentative mages and residing templars.

He smiled inwardly at her handling of the situation. Trevelyan's calm neutralness dispelled their fire and even had the Chancellor scamper off. That particular hand gesture was made during it, signaling her internal nervousness.

However, the Commander knew too well from experience that neutrality was a self-defense mechanism. It was used as a way to hide oneself from others. No one can read what they cannot see.

Though it begged the question in the Commander's mind: What is she hiding?

_Could be nothing. One's private thoughts are their own._

Said private thoughts were interrupted by, "Commander, permission to enter."

Cullen sighed, his mental reverie would have to continue some other time.

"Enter."

A tall, well-built templar, with sandy blonde hair with dark blue eyes came inside. His jaw covered by a thick, well-cropped, pale-blonde beard that had a grey streak on the right side of his mouth.

"Ah, Knight-Commander Aedelric, what brings you here?" asked the Commander.

Knight-Commander Aedelric was one of the newer templars to join their cause. He was previously stationed at Ostwick, a Free-March city that has remained neutral in the Mage-Templar war. When the Commander asked him upon his first arrival why he wished to join the Inquisition he simply stated, "My time at Ostwick and as Knight-Commander has run its course."

The Commander in Cullen was certainly welcoming to him. He was one of the few templars, himself included, who held significant rank within the Order. He even had five more years experience than himself. It was that experience that gave him seniority within the templars in the Inquisition.

"I have come to apologize for the disgraceful act my fellow templars demonstrated at the Chantry's steps. I've given them extra regimes and duties while having them recite the Chant of Transfigurations while doing so. Hopefully that will sink into their skulls. I want you to know that once I heard about their transgressions, I was on my way to knock some since into their fool heads, but the… Herald beat me too it."

That was one thing he admired about the Knight-Commander, he was a simple, no non-sense person. He was stern as iron. He expected the best from his templars just as his templars expected the best from him. Both on and off the field.

"I'm glad to hear that it didn't escape your notice. The Herald handled the situation well and hopefully her words sink in just as the Chant will. The Inquisition cannot afford its own little war on its doorsteps."

The Knight-Commander nodded firmly, "Agreed Commander. The Herald… wasn't what I expected." He folded his arms.

The Commander chuckled, "I would have thought the same. She's got a way of conducting herself that gets everyone's attention. It's worked as a whole. Many here admire her for it."

"I would imagine. It would seem that her being a mage during this war is not hampering those admirers. It is heartening to see that there are those who are not beyond reasoning."

"Very much so Knight-Commander."

"What is she like? The Herald? That was the first time I've actually seen her. And you know of the gossip."

The Commander groaned. He was aware of the gossip, though he disliked talking about her beyond their circle. Bits of protectiveness swelling in his chest.

"Why do you ask?"

The stern Knight-Commander chuckled, "You can rest easy Commander. I'm not a dullard who gossips. Nor am I asking because she is a mage and, I, a templar. I just want to be sure of my decision to join the Inquisition. I need to know that those I am choosing to follow are aligned with my own views."

That the Commander could understand. The Knight-Commander was being a cautious man, and any cautious man needed a wealth of research and reassurance that a decision was sound.

"Let me quell any doubt Knight-Commander; she has shown more admirable and respectable traits that goes beyond the mark on her hand. Traits that are sorely needed in this world."

Out of Cullen's limited knowledge of her, that was most certain. He had little vocal interaction with her, but he reports of her goings-on in the Hinderlands and here at Haven were proof enough despite her more quiet demeanor. Along with the conversation she had with Cassandra that he… overheard.

It might even be said that he himself admired her as well for her actions.

"You do this old man good Commander. Certainty is good."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Hot damn the follow/fav list just shot up! Thank you indy's girl, Annunbalien, dragontranslator, Randomnerdier, Shiridan, kannabi-no-miko, and saqqara08!


	6. I'm Going Slightly Mad

Chapter 5 : I'm Going Slightly Mad

Well, the Chantry angle was a huge success. _Not_.

Sure. Go ahead. While the sky is ripping itself apart bark and scratch each other. I'm sure doomsday can wait for your bickering to stop.

She wanted something to hit.

Bad.

And she was in no mood for crafting and making things. She wanted wonton destruction.

Those training dummies look like a prime target. Some wood and cloth flying in the air couldn't hurt to satiate her ire. One problem: the templar Commander. Well… _ex_-templar Commander.

Katja didn't want to say "once a templar always a templar" because that would mean "once a circle mage always a circle mage" in her situation.

She sure as shit wasn't a circle mage.

She knew that he would be there to oversee training of the recruits along with his other duties as Commander of the Inquisition's army. A small one, but an army non-the-less.

When it came to the army, she'll leave it up to him – so a small trust in that. Since it was Cassandra that appointed it to him pre-death-in-the-sky. As far as she knew, he as a professional. Best be left at arm's length.

Which was fine with her.

_The hell am I doing? Tripping over my cunt. It's not like I'll be bashing in the faces of the recruits! Or 'Curly's' face as Varric calls him._

She snorted at the nickname. Heh, _Curly_.

Decision made. Some wooden faces were going to get bashed in. Maybe frozen, zapped, and/or ignited.

On her way to the training grounds she heard mutters of "That's the Herald of Andraste" and one or two more bows than she wanted to see. Once she was at the training grounds some of the recruits balked at her proximity.

_I gotta get outta here._

She promptly canceled her date with the dummies and decided an impromptu hunting trip in the surrounding area would be a better pace.

Nothing like killing innocent animals to forget about this bullshit.

She made a stiff right. Feeling the Veil pull from a certain _EX!-_templar and current-templars. Ignoring it as she made her way up the beaten road and into the forest. She diminished her connection to the Fade and the Veil to a small glimmer and set out.

* * *

"Commander have you seen Trevelyan since our return?" Cassandra asked Cullen.

He thought back to earlier that day where he saw her enter the forest. It was brief as he was reprimanding the recruits who faltered when her presence came into the training grounds. He felt her Veil connection but then it's sudden muteness, at the time he thought nothing of it. Being too preoccupied.

The Commander relayed her earlier spot.

It was nearly dark and most of Haven was indoors enjoying their evening meal.

"No one else has seen her. She maybe out hunting."

He took the information and analyzed it, "I'll go and find her. I'll go in the direction she went off." He sighed, now wasn't the time for the Herald to go off without protection. Even if it is in the vicinity of Haven. He ordered his second to come along with him, he wasn't pleased about her meal being interrupted, but came without dispute.

Cullen made his way into the stables and found his horse – Valor – saddled him and trotted in the general direction of the Herald's departure. His second in close toe on his horse. The prints were still there, although faint. He followed them ever deeper into the forest, each passing moment grew more dark. More colder. Good thing he brought a torch with him.

He mentally reprimanded her for going off in this cold with nothing but her standard armor and leathers. His breath fogged heavily.

He tried with minimal success locating her Veil-pull. It wasn't as strong as he was used to. All he was able to discern was the general direction and he went that way. A strong wind blew and he pulled his fur cloak closer to his body. One mile out, he saw a small cave a light with a dim fire. He saw shadows blocking the fire light and decided to investigate. There was a definite pull and it only got a notch stronger the closer he got. Confident it was her, he commanded Valor into a gallop to the cave.

Valor and his second's horse neighed softly in displeasure. It only took a moment to see why – some wolves were gathered at the mouth of the cave.

Bad scenarios played out in his head. Wolves. Trevelyan's Veil-pull inside the cave.

He was fully prepared to fight the wolves if necessary until he saw said woman emerge unmolested from the cave. She sighed, petted one of the wolves on the head – he felt a small spike in the Veil – all at once the wolves acknowledged her and went back inside the lighted cave.

Cautiously, he dismounted and tied Valor to a tree branch, ordered his second to stay in the tree line and walked toward the Herald.

The light behind her cased an eerie glow around her thick, long, white hair and gave her eyes a ruby florescence.

A small part of his chest caught but willed it away at his more present annoyance.

She crossed her arms in defiance, "You here to command me back to Haven?"

It was wholly accusatory, a little loathing, and a dash of 'make me.'

They've had little interaction between the two of them until this point. So, he couldn't say what her current mood would be. Cassandra would be a better choice in that, since they've spent more time together. Why did he volunteer for this mission again?

"Cassandra was worried." It was a lame answer, he knew.

She let out a loud groan, "Then why isn't _she_ here then?"

"You shouldn't be out by yourself Her –"

"Agh‼" she suddenly through her arms up in exasperation, "Andraste's _teats_! I can't go a fuckin' day _without_ hearing that in my direction! It's Katja! Kat – _ja_!" she placed her hands on her hips.

He was silent from the outburst.

"Well! Mr Commander _Ser_! If you must be oh-so formal, Trevelyan would be fine. Not the _h_-word!" he saw her eyes blazed in annoyance, "I'm so tired of hearing it you just don't know!"

Sighing, the Commander not needing this in the slightest, "Trevelyan," he started when she didn't interrupt, "you shouldn't be out by yourself." He tried to sound calm but this wasn't going to plan for him.

She shook slightly and blinked as if struck looked around herself and stated, "What kind of woman you take me for?"

He didn't know how to respond to that.

"What? Now that you guys know I'm of noble birth I'm all of a sudden a _doll_? Is that why I'm asked to bring along companions? Oh, whoop-de-_doo_ I'm a sissy noble girl that needs rescuing from a little cold." She said mockingly as a frilly girl, "Please, Commander, I've been on my own for several years now, in worse conditions than a warm fire in a secluded cave, with some furry bodyguards." She said more seriously. "I don't need ah – you _guys,_" she pointed at him with a lame finger, " – to wait on me hand and foot when I bump my toe. I think I can survive a night by _myself_."

Andraste preserve him.

"Trevelyan," he started, maybe a bit more gruff than his intention was, "you are important now. I don't know what your life was before. But you can't go out without protection. You know –"

"I know all too well Commander!" she hissed out quietly, "The Chantry hates my guts – even after I tried to appeal to them. Ya know, hey! I'm not a madwoman that wants to burn it all to the ground! Many still believe I'm responsible for this whole damn mess even without the Chantry bringing metaphorical fire my way. But nope! 'Fuck you we'd rather debate over Divine rather than see that big asshole in the sky raining Rift-shit!'

"The Mage-Templar war is still going on – despite the fact that that their 'leftovers' are all dead in the Hinderlands. Speaking of them! The rebel mages are holed up in Redcliffe – Guess what? They threw out the arl. Fiona has invited to red-rover me over to Redcliffe. The Templars have left the Chantry with Seeker Lucius and gone off to 'who-the-fuck-knows'. Unfortunately I need _one_ of them to come over to help me power up my mark so I can successfully close the Breach in the hope – a _small_ hope – to do so. But nope! They both have thus far have said 'Fuck you! We'd rather be ramming ourselves with each other's staffs and swords!'

"I have refugees and recruits I worry over – ya know fed and warm and treating their injuries – more come every day. On top of that, I'm the only fuckin' person that can close the Breach and rifts. So, yes! I know how fuckin' important I am because they keep calling me the H-WORD OF FUCKIN' _ANDRASTE_!" Trevelyan sighed heavily in exasperation. Her last sentence she practically yelled and the echo could be heard for a full ten seconds before dying off.

Cullen could feel the Veil around her spike dangerously the more Trevelyan spoke. His old Templar training going straight to the forefront of his mind. He had to mentally reprimand himself before the urge to cast a Holy Smite or Silence. The Veil around her calmly dissipated after her tirade.

He felt guilty.

Cullen hadn't spent much interaction with her to gauge her mental state. Those he did have were short and she wore a mask of neutrality – which had suddenly vanished from her bearings. Surly Cassandra or one of the other companions would have noticed? Maybe she was hiding it? He doubted Cassandra of all people would have failed to notice the strain. He would defiantly mention a possible solution to this dilemma to Cassandra later.

In his mental reverie he failed to notice that the wolves what were in the cave came back out and were whimpering, licking and patting her hands and legs, or showing their bellies.

She closed her eyes, took several deep breathes before her face turned to one of calmness. Her ruby red eyes opened. Sadness edging along her eyes along with her normal neutrality. She patted one of the wolves on the head and by some unspoken command they went back inside.

It was then she looked back at him, "Is it too much to ask that I have one measly night to myself without hearing 'H-word I need your attention'?"

Cullen almost wanted to chuckle at her use of 'h-word' instead of Herald. Almost.

He knew what it is like to have responsibility clamor at you with no end in sight. The demands of the station. Especially with one so unaccustomed to leadership or reverence, he could see how it could get to her.

He felt like a real piece of dragon dung then.

Choosing his next words carefully, "I cry your pardon Trevelyan. I didn't realize you wanted to be alone. Just, next time, let one of the others know. Cassandra wanted to tear Haven on its head looking for you."

Trevelyan laughed bitterly, "Sounds like her."

He nodded, "Indeed. I have a compromise." He saw her furrow her brows, "For tonight, I'll keep guard. I know you can take care of yourself, or else you wouldn't go head long into a battle and come out with minimal damage. With or without aid. It's just standard precaution. I'll tell you this, no one, not even myself, would consent to you having no other form of guard watching for any danger."

He saw her clench her jaw and look away into the distance. Her neutral expression fading slightly.

For several moments she didn't speak and he was afraid that she would outright refuse him.

She slowly turned her head, sighed, defeated, "Alright. But! You" she pointed at him, becoming _slightly_ animated, "are staying on the opposite end of the fire. If you try _anything_, you'll have fourteen furry bodyguards making a midnight snack out of your puny balls."

He nodded, "I understand." The Commander had to fight the urge to grab his nether region in masculine protection. The mental image of his genitals being eaten by wolves was not on his agenda anytime soon.

The Commander turned on his heel, went back to his second, gave him his orders. As he was dismissed he untied his horse and brought him closer to the cave for warmth. He gave some protest with being so close to wolves, until Trevelyan came out placed her hand on his head. By that same unspoken command he had witness with the wolves, Valor instantly responded. He instantly calmed in the wolves presence as they by Cullen's observation, ignored each other. Valor didn't even require his guidance, he, by an unseen pull, followed Trevelyan and stopped by a proscribed spot.

Cassandra had reported her observations about her oddities being a mage to him. But to witness it. He certainly didn't hear about her powers with lesser beasts. There were mages with similar abilities, but those were rare and only could appeal to a specific breed.

The weary Commander took a spot near the fire that would allow him to sit upright. On the opposite side of Trevelyan. As promised.

It was then he noticed a particular raunchy, bloody smell. Further into the cave he noticed a fresh kill of a Druffalo. It was mostly eaten and the bits that were left were the ones that the wolves wouldn't eat. Like the bowls.

_Maker's Breath._

Coupled with that, over the fire were three protruding sticks with cubed, muscular cuts of the Druffalo cooking.

The mixture of sweet cooking meat along with a bloody kill made his stomach turn from both nausea and hunger.

Trevelyan seemed to have noticed his discomfort and commented, "You'll get used to the smell in a moment. I wasn't intending on sharing my meal, but" she pulled one of the sticks of meat from the ground and waved it to him, "you can have some."

Cullen momentarily hesitated, but took the warm stick with the hot, cooked meat. His hunger making him forget that twenty feet back a Druffalo carcass was stewing.

After a few bites of the sweet, gamey meat Trevelyan suddenly asked, "I understand you were once a templar."

He swallowed the tough, hot meat before replying, "Yes. I left the Order when Cassandra told me of the Divine's plans to start the Inquisition if the Concave failed."

Cullen noticed her eyes as watchful, like a falcon tracking prey. The luminance of the fire gave her ruby eyes extra intensity. Even when she ripped apart a tough piece of the Druffalo meat. The grease moistening her reddish lips.

_Maker's Breath._

"And you left, just like that." She asked though her chewing, pearl-white teeth showing.

He sighed at the memory, it had only been a short while ago, "I had my reasons for leaving the Order."

"What where they?"

He knitted his brows, contemplating what he felt safe for him to say, "Where the Order was going, I could not follow. I couldn't go along with it, not without losing the good in myself."

All the good that came out of him at Ferelden's Circle and ultimately at Kirkwall.

For a long while Trevelyan was silent. She kept her watchful gaze on him. Old, templar training regimes turning in his head – to see the whole and not the part. Sudden clarity over Trevelyan's neutralness toward him clicked in his mind. It was only toward him that she kept the neutral mask on.

_She sees the Flaming Sword and not the man. The Commander._

He remembered the overheard conversation between Cassandra and her. He surmised that she had… less than fantastic relations with her templar counterparts. Something that, he became aware of the higher in rank he became in the Order. It was another reason why he left. The abuses. Those that happened on both sides.

He was ashamed and guilty of some of them with his anger. What he wanted was to atone and a fresh start at something positive. Some of the memories bled into his vision of the rocky cave. He breathed slowly to regain some composure.

"Do Templars take vows?" her question snapped him out of his meditation down memory crossroads, "Like 'I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages' sort of thing?"

Relieved at the respite from his memories, it was a neutral subject when it came to the Order.

"There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it's over, you give yourself to a life of service. That's when you're given a philter – your first draught of lyrium – and it's power."

Aches throbbed tenderly around the Commander's body at the mention of lyrium. It has been only a short while since his last draught. Speaking of it didn't help his growing thirst. Or itchy pain.

He continued on, pushing the blue thoughts away, "As templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen."

"Service and sacrifice." She whispered, he couldn't place the minuet change in her neutral expression but her watchful eyes seemed almost… Doubtful? Uncertain?

As quickly as her expression changed, it reverted back to watchful neutralness, through her chewing, "What of physical temptations?"

Droffalo meat almost meet the floor in the unexpected question.

"Ph-physical? Why…" he had to clear his throat and stifle an impending cough from the meat partials caught where they shouldn't, "Why would you…" he could feel heat rising to his cheeks, "That's not expected," he admitted, "Templars can marry – although there are rules around it, and the Order must grand permission. Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it's, um, not required."

_Maker please let that satisfy her question about _that_ subject._

"What about you?"

He inwardly panicked at the direction this was going, "Me? I… um… no. I've taken no such vows."

As willing as he was to prove to her that he had left that life behind with answering her questions, it was really getting uncomfortable with the line she had chosen. Old, cloudy memories of a woman with raven hair... bright blue eyes… a singing laugher. For a moment the Commander saw her beside Trevelyan, smiling softly – with a templar sword running through her chest.

"Maker's Breath," he protested, "Can we speak of something else?" The vision of her fading.

Silence permeated in the cave. He was quietly grateful that her questions were quenched. The withdrawals were starting to get to him. He made it a priority to speak to Cassandra in the morning.

"When did you join the Order?"

Apparently her questions were not quenched. They were hard questions for him to answer. Most of them brought back memories that he thought he had forgotten from the lyrium. Some of those memories, he wished he didn't remember. Events bled from his vision periodically throughout their conversation. For a moment, he felt as if he was back there – Ferelden's Circle – Kirkwall.

That was the most excitement for the night for the ex-templar and ex-circle mage before retiring to the opposite ends of the fire. Cullen wrapped up in his thick fur cloak. Trevelyan wrapped up in fourteen breathing fur blankets.

* * *

One eye open.

That's how she slept that night. Oh, she slept. With some funky breath from her furry, wolf companions wafting into her nose. The earthy, musk from their thick, grey pelts. Their warm fur surrounding her like a blanket. The stone floor was a little uncomfortable but it was something she had grown accustomed to over the years.

Home. Comfort.

"No…" a breathy whisper in the dark.

She shot her unopened eye open.

"No…" it called again.

It was the… Commander's voice. Katja heard him shifting from his corner.

Curious, she lifted her head, while disturbing the breathing blankets, and peered into the darkness where the ex-templar slept. Unable to see him other than a faint silhouette, she produced a small werelight – no bigger than a pebble and emitted a dim glow. Carefully, she crawled on her heels to the sleeping ex-templar.

He was on his back. Legs pushing against the ground. A thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead despite the cold. The shivers. Wrists were close together like they were bound. Hands bent like claws.

"Let me go…" he breathed hoarsely through gritted teeth.

Bad dreams were plaguing him. Nightmarish if he was contorting and speaking physically.

Swells of empathy whirled in Katja's heart.

She raised a finger and concentrated a Calm spell on the appendage. The light radiant in its soft purple glow. Just when she was about to cast it –

Cullen's eyes suddenly opened.

He lunged and screamed at Katja – shoving her to the ground. The action knocking the breath from her. Vice hands wrapping around her throat. A heavy weight on her chest and stomach.

"I hate you Uldred! This is for my friends you Maker-damned abomination!"

His hands squeezed.

Panic educed survival flooded Katja's brain. Her Calm spell forgotten when her vision spotted red and black. Instinctually, lightning struck the templar. Something to get him _off_ her!

It had the desired effect of knocking him away from her.

She spurted coughs to catch her breath. Feeling light headed and dizzy. Heart hammering in her chest. Faintly hearing howls barking along with screams and swearing. Barely catching her breath when she saw that her wolves were attacking the Commander. Trying to bite and claw through his armor. In a rage, he raised his sword –

"Curse your demons Uldred!"

– and lowered it.

In her hyper-awareness, she remembered her Calm spell. Movement slowed as thoughts raced.

Releasing her Calm in a burst of energy that enveloped the cave and surrounding hill in soft purple light.

The templar's sword released from his hands as he fell on his knees to the ground. The wolves stopped their attack. Frozen in their temporary tranquility.

When Katja was more calm herself did she release her spell on her wolves. Sending them to the back of the cave.

Now she was contemplating her hold on the… ex-templar. She could continuously sustain the flow of the spell if needed, but that was impractical. For now though, she will until she could clear her head over what happened.

Slowly, she ran the events through her head.

Before he awoken, it looked like he was tied. The tight wrists, clawed hands. Him breathing out 'no' and 'let me go'. He awakened seeing her casting a spell. His reaction violent. Called her 'Uldred'. Someone he knew? He saw her wolves as demons, abominations. He was fighting this Uldred person that was using demons? Seemed that way since he wanted to choke the life from her. It would explain his will to fight. It was like he did see…

A bucket of ice water fell on her consciousness.

Her face lit up in sudden perception for his reactions.

Nightmare. Mental wounds. Emotional scaring. _Trauma_.

Her heart swelled and flooded in more than one way of understanding. Because of that, she was far from angry. Despite him being a former templar. Despite him almost trying to kill her in his trauma-fueled dream-state. She knew what that kind of hurt was all about.

The Flaming Sword she saw over him cracking dangerously.

Slowly, she released her Calm spell over the Commander.

He blinked a few times. If her facial feature read was right, it looked like he was confused.

"What –" that facial feature changed drastically into something she didn't place. His eyes widened and his mouth ajar.

Jerking upright and backing away.

"Comman –" was all she could word out before he ran out of the cave.

Hastily, she shot up and followed the retreating Commander in the soft glow of the rising sun.

"Cullen stop!" she called out.

He didn't stop. Not even when she tripped over a fallen branch hidden in a pile of snow did he stop. The action spraining it. He was fast in that armor of his.

Searching for his Veil-pull she managed to locate him. He was heading in the direction of Haven.

Groaning in exasperation over the last few minutes of her life.

Laying and burying her face in the snow contemplating and cursing the situation. He obviously was highly upset over his impulsive actions. She could only surmise that he was angry and afraid of himself of getting to that point. Feelings that… she had from _back then_. Katja's acute understanding made it impossible to be angry with him. If someone was around from that time in her life, she would have lashed out like that as well.

She didn't know what he was going to do once he got to Haven. But she wasn't going to let him wallow in it. Experience told her that was a horrible idea. He needed reassurance. He needed to know her understanding. He didn't need to know specifics of her hurts nor she his. Even though she still saw the Flaming Sword on his armor, Katja couldn't let another person be alone in gnawing their hurts. Especially when it was made plain. Running is the last thing anyone in that situation should do.

_I will go to him._ She promised. _I will go to him and not be afraid._

Soft clunking of hooves entered her ears. Lifting her snow-powered face from the ground she saw the Commander's horse trotting to her. Neighing softly.

She smiled softly. Turning herself to inspect her ankle, she quickly healed it. Without finessing, she got onto the Commander's horse and headed to Haven.

* * *

**[A.N]** Thank you jociekelly, and HayabusaDragonForce for the favs/follows! And guest reviewer Jaime!

I've also went back on my previous chapters and fixed some errors and added some extra detail. I know I skipped the Chantry scene, your not going crazy. I couldn't find a suitable way of transitioning into that without it being awkward. Plus, we get some of inquisitoraXcullen interaction!

I've come up with some art for my story! You know the drill with … ya know, fixing the links so you can use them. Removing the spaces and the parenthesis.

Here's my Inquisitor:

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/Inquisitor-Katja-Trevelyan-508273392

And Cullen (also as my cover):

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/The-Binding-of-Blue-Lace-508281597


	7. Thomas

Chapter 6: Thomas

Haven was ruffling from its sleep when Katja first trotted into the town. Slowly did the inhabits rouse from their slumber. It was challenging to find the Veil-pull of the panicked Commander. Knowing that this is where he ran off to. However, it became obvious the more she trotted into the town. Most of the Veil-pulls were concentrated within the soldier tents, but she could only feel one within the vicinity of the Chantry.

Making her way into the stables, she tied and unsaddled the horse. Telling the male horse to rest and eat while petting it gently on its muscled neck.

A fresh dusting of snow covered Haven, crunching lightly on her leather boots. The air sending cold kisses to her cheeks and warm fog from her breath. By now the sun was beginning to rise – a soft pinkish, yellow glow ghosted around the structures.

Walking briskly to the Chantry, she was able to evade some sleepy-eyed stares. The Chantry itself was warm from several hearth-fires. Only two sisters were at the various alters in different states of prayer. They paid no attention to her or the muffled voices coming from the war room. Logic told her that the Commander was in there – having a heated debate with whoever else was in there with him.

The closer she got to the war room the more she discerned bits of their voices.

"… if you cannot tell me…"

"… would you rather…"

"… I won't make a decision. Where is the Herald?"

Opening the heavy door the voices halted their argument.

It was Cullen and Cassandra. The Commander was pale from his running in the cold – having a similar face on when Katja lifted her Calm spell on him. Cassandra looked disheveled from having a heated argument early in the morning. Although her face looked like it always has been.

"Herald, Trevelyan, it's good to see you. Perhaps you could shed some light as to why the Commander has shown here in his state. I was given orders from his Second that he would be with you during your over-night expedition into the wilds."

The said Commander looked like a cat stepped on his tail.

"That isn't necessary! Our agreement –!"

"I am aware of it Commander, but you refuse to speak as to _why_ and _what_ happened." She stated more calmly than he.

Katja regarded the Commander. Something was going on between these two that she wasn't aware of. Agreement? What _agreement_? Did it have something to do with Cullen's trauma dream-state in the cave? Gears in her brain was going toward that was the case. At the very least, it was related. The Commander was clearly afraid, that she gathered after he ran and even now.

_I will not be afraid._

As she was about to speak, the Seeker saw her neck.

"Where did you get those bruises?" she asked more quietly.

The Commander went even paler.

Katja mentally kicked herself. She forgot about the bruises the Commander, in his trauma-state, left around her neck! _Oops. _

Tension in the room escalated quickly.

"Commander –"

"I –"

"It wasn't his fault!" she blurted out. Half-thinking that the Seeker would annihilate the Commander.

_I will not be afraid._

Although she was feeling mighty uncomfortable under the Seeker's gaze. Sighing heavily and clasping her hands at the whole situation. She wanted Cullen to know that she didn't hold him responsible and what had happened was between them. Not understanding how Cassandra was involved. Or their 'agreement'.

If the Maker existed, she prayed that her social and vocal skills were on par with what she was about to say because if not… shit.

"Don't blame Cullen for what happened. It wasn't totally his fault." She turned to the distant Commander, "You don't need to tell me your hurts, but I… understand it."

Both their eyes widened at her, more so from Cullen.

Katja continued, steeling herself, "I made the mistake of causing a memory-trigger for you. I… understand what those are like. For unknowingly causing one, I am sorry."

Both of them made varying degrees of expressions at her. Cassandra's she couldn't place completely because it was her normal expression with more intensity. Cullen's she detected a great deal of fear but something else as well. He made the move to grab the hilt of his sword but instantly realizing it was missing went to crossing his arms.

Katja made the mental note to go get his fallen sword.

"I should be the one who's asking for your forgiveness." Gently, softly he said, not looking at her, "I didn't want to – you shouldn't be – you should be afraid –"

"Is there something on my shoes? You keep looking at them."

He made eye-contact at her surprising statement.

Sighing, "That's better. I can't try to talk to you when you look at my shoes."

He tried to say something but she cut him off, "Forgiveness is unnecessary because I understand. Memory-triggers are painful themselves along with the traumatic memories they bring up. And if I was afraid," she walked up into his space and poked his armored chest with a stiff finger, "I wouldn't do that. You'll have to do better to scare me."

Katja never broke eye-contact with Cullen. Trying to drive the point home with him. Steel, red eyes trying (but feeling she is failing) to convey her empathy and understanding into his worrying, bronze eyes. Wanting to project into his mind calm acceptance. Unable to physically to do so.

Saying a silent prayer that she succeeded.

He was looking at her. Taking a moment to gauge his reaction, to quantify it: his brow was slightly furrowed – folding the skin around them and his intense bronze eyes; his stubble-spotted jaw would clench; his pale lips pressed thinly; the small vein around his left temple and neck would pulsate; arms tight around himself; and his body was absolutely still.

A picture of a terrified fennec caught in a corner by a mad predator entered her mind.

Until a redness spread across his cheeks.

That was bad! Flushing is bad! Flushing means a rise in anger!

_Is he still afraid? Angry? Of what? Did I use the wrong words? Speak Commander!_

Frustration and anxiety flooded her being, believing she done bad, "I'm sorry! I said the wrong thing! I didn't mean to make you angry!"

Cullen's expression changed drastically and spurted out, "No! I'm not angry – I'm just… surprised."

_Surprised? That's your _surprise_ expression? That's just confusing! I'm no expert on expressions but that was _not_ surprise!_

"Surprise?" doubt in her voice.

Bronze eyes would dart between her, a space behind her, and her neck. His face slack from his earlier expression.

"I would have thought… that you would be angry with _me_." He said quietly.

"Ah, well, I'm not. Before I forget," placing her hands around her neck, she healed away the sore bruises in a soft green luminescence, "See? It's gone now. In more than one way. Okay?"

"I –"

"Hey," she cut him off, "no more of that. It's washed away."

"If it happens again –! I could have –!"

"Being scared isn't going to help Cullen. If you need some time to help yourself, you can have some." It was an offering.

His face slackened, "Your sending me away."

Katja blinked a few times, "Your being thick-headed. I just said I _wasn't_ mad at you, and I meant it. If I was I wouldn't suggest that you could use some time to help yourself. Logically you can't run our forces if you're scared of yourself. At least for today."

Trying to be logical here. Finding a medium. That's the goal here.

"No! I need to keep myself busy. Keeps my mind off of it."

Possible solution? He wouldn't be wallowing in his hurts. Experience told her that was a _bad_ idea. Fully knowing that it takes time to mend hurts. But he still needed time to recover and accept what happened earlier. That's important.

"Tomorrow Commander." Cassandra said. Katja completely forgot that the Seeker was in the room!

"Tomorrow." She agreed.

Cullen closed his eyes and breathed heavily, "Alright."

"If I see you read one report today Commander, I'll use you as target practice." Warned the Seeker with upmost seriousness.

With what Katja knew of her, she didn't doubt her seriousness.

Feeling proud that that her mission was a success, she left the Chantry in high-spirits. Her anxiety quelled. The sun was fully out bathing Haven in a soft light. The residents walking around busily. It was an exciting and slightly terrifying morning for her, but it turned out for the better.

She felt more at ease with the ex-templar Commander.

Trepidation was still there around him and his ex-templar status. However, after her chat with him last night it faded and cracked – present but not predominate. She couldn't detect any sort of overt lies as he was answering her questions. Questions about his templar service. After all, it was the main existence of the majority of his life. Now, he had a new existence. She could… respect that.

A hard rumble emitted from her stomach.

She had a new mission for today, but for right now, she needed some grub.

Grabbing some of the stew from the pub, she headed back to her hut-house. Too lazy to make a suitable fire or light up the candles, she produced a small werelight that lit up the small house. Picking a comfortable spot on her bed, she ate the stew. While she was swirling the contents in her mouth, a thought occurred to her.

Maybe her questions helped to trigger his night-terror.

It made sense, right? That whatever horror the Commander experienced was during his templar service. And she spent a couple of hours _questioning_ him about it. She hoped she as reading too much into it. That regardless he would have had it.

Out-right groaning at the whole situation.

_Running in fucking circles won't help Katja! It's over. And with a little luck, both you and he have grown a little from this experience. Everything will go back to normal tomorrow._

Finishing her breakfast, she was going to make due on her mental note.

She was going to rescue Ser Cullen's sword.

Reasoning with herself that returning it would be beneficial. For him and herself. The old her wouldn't be so generous to retrieve an ex-templar's sword. Or, with anyone's personal belongings. Plus, it went along her reasoning that if she was consenting to being the face of the Inquisition, that people seeing her treating the other team players kindly would be good.

Either way, it was a good learning experience.

It felt real.

Like the short trek that she took to retrieve a widow's late-husband's wedding ring. Or, when she found caches of blankets and food for that town in the Hinderlands. It felt solid. The sort of thing that was possible for her disposition. Or anyone's for that matter. It was her hope though. Even when she has seen, and experienced, the worst in people.

_She_ felt more real.

Even though Katja absolutely hated the H-word and being revered in a silent hell-hole that is reverence. Wanting to wake up from this damn dream. That her glowing scar would fade away. She would wake up in her hidden cave near Witchwood because no one would suspect an apostate mage to hide near 'Witchwood'. Or any of her hide-a-ways. Then, start her day hunting and/or fishing. After that, practice her lessons Havardr would instruct her during her dreams. Eat some more. Finally, after a busy day, would take a relaxing swim and subsequently re-apply her hair dye.

Rinse and repeat.

Unless she was feeling mighty mischievous. In that case, she would sneak into a farmer's pantry to steal some hidden sweets. Or, steal a book or two from the more wealthy patrons. Which, she would return.

The good old days.

For now, she changed out of her dusty clothes into fresh travel leathers. Once completed she went to the stables and had a mental-chat with the Commander's horse. Since the Horse-Master has yet to arrive with the Inquisition's horses, and he was a beautiful beast. A large, dark brown Ferelden Fodder with excellent muscle definition and posture; with a sweet, gentle, and obedient disposition; and his hide and hair was well groomed and soft under the touch. The perfect stallion of any willing mare.

Glad to be out of its pen, she climbed onto his back. She was used to riding horses without a saddle. Most of the horses she rode on were the wild ones that she would 'tame' with her mental-connection. Thanks to a certain lion-spirit that taught her that – at the least help her master her inherent ability. With practiced ease, she guided where she wanted the beautiful beast to go.

The Commander's horse trotted along the path she wished for him without complaint.

Katja breathed in the relaxing, cold, mountain air. Calm, acceptance tickled her skin. For those few moments, it was just her, the clunking of hooves, the smell of pine, and a gentle, cold breeze.

The wolves greeted her enthusiastically. After getting off the horse, she petted the wolves and caressed their minds. Not forgetting her mission, she entered the secluded cave and grabbed the Commander's sword.

For a few moments, she held the blade. Peering at it to see if she could extract secrets from the metal. It wasn't a templar blade – she was all too familiar with those.

Old lessons Havardr instructed her on weapons ringing in her head.

It was defiantly a sword with the idea of having a shield as a mate. The blade wide for hacking limbs and a pointed tip for piercing. Ideal for close quarters. It was perfectly sharp – not too much so that it would chip or blunt enough to borderline as a club. The hilt long enough for one hand – the pommel heavy for balance. The scabbard wide enough to protect the hand with a slight curve to direct gore away. The aesthetic design minimal and perfectly functional. A sword with the idea of cutting down foes quickly with minimal finesse.

Katja could admire a blade such as this one – it's simple, functional beauty. It sole function was to end a life or to help protect one.

To her, it was perfect. An excellent smith poured into the make and the owner… the owner lovingly cared for the sword. The discipline to care for the blade with a whetstone, keeping it oiled. Shining bright to deliver the final sleep of death. The sword is extension of the owner. In more ways than one.

Walking out of the cave, gently holding the hilt with both hands. Gears and wheels turning in Katja's mind. The Commander's horse neighed softly at her approach.

The Commander…

He would care for things – his sword, his horse, his army – with little regard for himself.

_"…you give yourself to a life of service… Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen."_

A little more of her uncertainty and the tattooed Flaming Sword chipped away around Cullen.

Making her way back to Haven on the back of the Commander's horse. Going through the routine of placing him in his pen and searching for the Commander's Veil-pull. He certainly wouldn't be within the vicinity of the soldier's – being threatened by Cassandra's ire. No, the only pull she felt was within the Chantry. Having some sense.

Treading carefully of the stares and eyes. Walking fast to avoid them.

The Chantry had a few more parishioners than her last visit early that morning. Few paid attention to her – preferring their solitude of prayer.

She found the Commander prostrate before one of the Andraste idols – alone in his prayer. Whispering softly verses of the Canticle of Trials – if her memory had it right.

Knelling softly beside him – patiently waiting, cradling his sword.

"… but my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion should they set themselves against me…"

Slowly the Commander raised his head, eyes wide when he saw that it was her.

"Herald, ah, Trevelyan, what are you…?" raising himself from being prostrate.

She presented the hilt of his sword, "Thought you might want it back. Clumsy you dropped it." Ghosting a small grin.

"Ah, um, yes, I suppose I did."

He looked away from her baring a metaphorical hole into the base of Andraste's idol. Making no move to take his sword.

"Ya know, if you keep staring you'll eventually make her tilt."

No reaction.

_What kind of sulkiness has the Commander dug himself into?_

Katja looked up at the face of the idol Andraste, giving her a dirty look like it was her doing that put him into his sulky mood.

"What is she to you?" he quietly asked.

Katja raised a questioning brow. The Commander finally looking at her. His expression was something within the 'sad' category, but not much more specific.

"Who?"

"Andraste. You mentioned that you aren't the most devout. What or who is she to you?"

Not really following his line of questions about Andraste, but she answered honestly.

"When I see her all I see is a woman who saw the truth of the world and made a sacrifice. I don't shirk it, because not everyone is willing to sacrifice. I respect it. And she had a lot of bad luck along the way."

The Commander was silent, contemplating her stance, "You don't find it odd you are in a similar situation?"

Katja blanched, "If you start prostrating at my feet –"

"No! I only meant your trials. Don't you think the Maker is testing you? Your faith? Anything?"

Sighing and scratching her invisible-stubble on her cheek, "Trials themselves are a test without Divine intervention."

Silence permeated the pair. Katja felt compelled to speak more, elaborate. Steeling her fears of speaking.

"That spirit, Havardr, he taught me the importance of self-mastery. He would say 'Self-mastery overcomes trials. Only you know yourself, your skills, your experience, your knowledge. Dismiss no trial, for they solidify self-mastery. The doubt-killer of the Self. The Ever-Knower of the Self.' Then, go on through emotions and images of mind-nerve-muscle movement in perfect sync – mind-muscle-memory-knowledge to expand and contract to grasp a quill or a sword.

"Ah, I hope I explained it correctly. Finding words to a spirits projected thoughts or emotions can be… a challenge." She admitted, feeling very small.

The Commander remained silent.

For a panicked minute she thought she made a poor choice. Talking of a spirit to a former templar. Using the wrong words. Or both.

"I think," he said quietly, "I understand what you are trying to say. These dream-terrors…" he closed his eyes and furrowed his brows, "Forgive me. I've troubled you enough with it. It is… my trial as you say."

Extending his hand, gently clasping the exposed hilt of his sword with familiarity. For a brief moment, their finger tips touched. Katja felt electricity run through her fingertips to the base of her skull – sending cool trickles across her skin. Quietly stiffening at the sensation. Releasing her hold on the Commander's sword as he retracted his arm to sheath it.

"Lady Trevelyan, I have a request."

She tilted her head, curious.

"Will you pray with me?"

Internally having a seizure, electrodes misfiring within her brain.

_Me? Why me? I haven't said any of those fucking Chants in years! You do remember that I am not the most devout right?!_

Wishing she could read his thoughts as to why he would ask her.

_Is it a comfort thing? A forgiveness thing? Is he testing me?_

Keeping her neutral expression, she tried so survey his expression. It was a soft without any of those little hints that would indicate aggression-type response.

_Perhaps this will be helpful in some way. The majority of the Inquisition's forces are devout to Andraste and the Maker – including the Commander. Maybe he's using it as a means to help himself overcome his trial and he's asking for assistance?_

The more she thought about it, the more likely it was.

"Alright."

"Thank you." His face kept the 'softness' but was replaced by something harder that she couldn't place. "You don't have to chant if you don't want to. Knowing you are here is enough."

Intertwining his hands and resting his brow on them, closing his eyes he began softly, "Maker, through the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

She mended her voice to the Chant with him, "Though all before me is shadow yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

"Draw your last breath, my friends, cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven." The last she Chanted herself, the Commander looking at her queerly.

"That's the whole Canticle… you remember? But, I thought –"

Abruptly she stood and stiffly walked out of the Chantry. Angry at herself for revealing more than she wanted to.

Hating herself for it. It was just one more thing that separates herself from others. An oddity. A freak.

Born a mage. Cursed by a mark that can close rifts. And her extraordinary sensory memory.

To never be able to forget. It can be pushed aside but never forgotten. Even with something that was so distant in her memory as reciting a Canticle. The heal-mending of time escapes Katja. A gift as much as a curse.

After that, she avoided the Commander. Acutely uncomfortable with unknowingly revealing something of herself. The only time she would interact with him would be during their meetings in the war room.

Leaving Haven for at least another two weeks helped her come to terms with it.

Recruiting The Iron Bull and his Chargers at the Storm Coast and Blackwall from the Hinderlands. While she and her party were in the Hinderlands, they stopped by Redcliffe to meet Grand Enchanter Fiona. Only to discover they have become indentured servants to Tevinter more specifically to magister Alexius.

Fucking great.

The only plus side was that they met Dorian, an former apprentice of the Magister, who was willing to help their cause should they be willing to face him. On top of that, he revealed that the magister is using time magic.

Real fucking great.

Once she returned to Haven. Two well spoken letters, which was defiantly inclined to both parties wanting to kill her. One from Magister Alexius at Redcliffe Castle and the other from Lord Seeker Lucius at Therinfall Redoubt.

Now the only thing left to do is – as a team – to decide what choice to make.

* * *

It was a frustrating and confusing time for the Commander.

Trevelyan surprisingly made herself scarce since her perfect recital of the Canticle of Trials. Coupled with leaving to go meet the Chargers at the Storm Coast and the former Grand Enchanter Fiona in the Hinderlands.

He didn't think she was capable – not without tedious weeks, months if not years of discipline and devotion of memorization. Even he, would need the help of a tome of the Chant to repair faults in his memory. Not thinking it was possible because of her lack of devotion. He told her she didn't need to pray with him, but she did.

Cullen remembered her talk with Cassandra – she spent the majority of her life away from the eyes of the Chantry and templars. Living alone.

_Yet she remembers. How is that possible? If she is devoted to the Faith, why lie about it?_

It seemed unlikely that she would lie in the Commander's eyes. So, the only explanation is that she had an extraordinary memory. He never heard of anyone having that level of memory. Perfect recall years later. What a gift that must be! To know that one's memory will never fail.

_Why would she run though? Why hide?_

That had hurt the Commander.

But, he was even more determined to know the Herald – Trevelyan – Katja. Her damned mask of neutrality kept in place in his presence.

It diminished slightly when she caught up to him when he begged Cassandra to relieve him. Stupefied and ashamed of his unintended violence to Trevelyan.

Cullen was damn scared of himself. The withdrawal coming to the forefront – the ugliness of it – the power of the memories that have been repressed for years. In a single moment was unleashed. In that moment, he almost killed their only means of ending the chaos. His hands wrapping around her small throat. Evident by the bruises.

And she… absolved him. In her way, forgave him.

Katja forgave because she understands the pain. The hurt.

More questions for the Commander.

_What sort of pain has she gone through that she would immediately forgive me for almost killing her? Even if I wasn't myself?_

Knowing that, gave him strength. That with her understanding and subsequent forgiveness, resolved him to preserver through with the lyrium withdrawal. In her words, to achieve self-mastery. The Commander will push through the memories, acknowledge what he had done, and forgive himself. Even the times he believed he didn't deserve it.

_The strength she must carry… The unflinching fortitude. If only I had an ounce of that for myself to fight the affliction._

For a small moment of peace within his tent, persevering through the prickled, clawing pain on his left leg, he sat on his rustic, desk chair, got out his oil and rag and begun to clean his sword, Sigurd. The same one that Katja went out of her way to recover for him.

Calm, cool thoughts tickled the Commander's mind about her, easing the migraine crushing his skull. Protective sweetness balming his muddled mind.

He would need it if they were going to reach a decision with the templars and mages.

* * *

**[A.N]** Thank you Vanyali, Ambivalentanachrist, and SweetAssassin for the favs/follows!

I would like to point out that Katja did acquire Vivienne and Sera while hunkering at Val Royeaux. I failed to write so because... well, their my least favorite companions. Vivienne is a pompous bitch and Sera... too fucking confusing and weird for my sensibilities. And I _like_ weird! I'll mention them from this point forward.

And I made some more art for my story!

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/I-Will-Be-Your-Sword-509567569


	8. Wreath of Barbs

Chapter 7: Wreath of Barbs

Endless plains stretched before her. The willowy grass rippling like disturbed water in the wind. A leafless, petrified tree danced from the wind caressing the branches. The trunk wider than three men; tall as a windmill; and its branches yawning breathlessly into the open sky.

At its base rested a lazy armored lion.

Katja smiled at the serene picture. Enjoying their space – their small shelter of peace within the Fade.

These endless plains the dominion of Havardr.

Each tree, speck of grass, the tints of color, breath of wind – an extension of the fierce lion spirit.

Tints of warm pinks and blues danced within her vision.

Conjuring up her own muddled colors of brown and grey.

Concern welling from Havardr.

"You know what goes on Great Lion."

Placing herself beside his massive head, gracing herself limply across his neck. Feeling the coolness of his armor like spring water. His body curled around her – forming a barrier of spirit and metal.

Projecting the goings-on since their last visit onto the surroundings. That last time was during her excursion in the Hinderlands.

Acknowledgement and absoluteness petted her mind.

"I know. I watch." He said. His words vibrated the grass – rippling them with each syllable.

Uncertainty clouded her mind. Twisted winding paths of emotions and choices without a map for guidance. Ghouls and demons hiding betwixt the trees.

Hard as iron, uncompromising, resolution disturbed those thoughts of hers. Blowing them away like leaves in autumn.

"What is true Snow Kitten?" He asked.

Old lessons.

"Only myself." Water flowing into brooks, streams, lakes, seas, oceans. Ever changing to the current but remains water.

"Always remember."

Grey shadows mimicking those she has aquatinted formed. The darkest of the grey forms was a twisted shape of Alexius holding a raven cage with two-legged formations of the mages. The mages slowing and speeding within their constraints of the cage. Demons sprouting like leeks from their backs.

"Not yet." He said. Alexius's raven cage broke and shattered, reversing the constraints on the mages.

The other, with Seeker Lucius holding a his own raven cage made out of red rocks – which looked suspiciously like red lyrium. Inside the cage was the deformed templars with the red lyrium growing from their bodies – drinking and moaning from the forced red poison. But, the Seeker's image was off – his head was replaced with that of a demon's. An envy one.

"Too late." He said.

In the False-Seeker's other hand materialized the actual Seeker's severed head bound with wire and thorn. Instantly she knew.

"Scared-blind-time-intruder-mage and Illusion-envy-destructor-binder-warrior are not danger."

A black as pitch shadow rose from behind the magister and Seeker. Taller than him with glowing red eyes and red thorns protruding from the black mass. It's long, clawed hand ripping the false-magister's and Seeker's head and consumed them.

Havardr growled.

"Diseased-falsifier-breaker-consumer."

The black mass of this _thing_ seized up and cracked into glass. The mass evaporating from the portion of the Fade. It looked eerily similar as the black shadow from the Rift. Part of the Fade that bled out.

A mental image of Havardr's golden eye turning a blue of blindness. A false-image of Havardr becoming corrupted – turning black as pitch and becoming another of that _thing_.

Katja shirked at the image. Solid fear bleeding throughout her being. Concern over her Great Lion's well being over just gaining knowledge of the shadow behind Alexius and the false-Seeker.

Her Great Lion chuckled. "Unnecessary." Warmth and sweetness sent goose prickles on her skin. "I was old when Diseased-falsifier-breaker-consumer was born."

The two paths will lead to the same barer of the chaos in Thedas. That was the common goal. In other words, they were mice in comparison to the shadow thing. Katja and the rest of the team must reach a conclusion with either the templars or mages. But, she concluded, they were fighting either Alexius or the Envy Demon. It wasn't too late for the mages but the templars… perhaps a few could be saved from being feed the red poison – the corrupted lyrium. That pleased her. But, those that had already consumed it were gone. From his information, the majority were already bound.

What didn't please her was that there was a bigger danger behind them.

One more thing that kept her from returning to her old normal. Her home.

Havardr, sensing this, responded by showing a winding path and the way behind was forever closed. Never again to walk. Too see behind, but to never walk. To never return. Her home burned.

Going inside herself. Fighting the truth of his words. Dark, night blues and bright, bloody reds.

"You do not see." He said solemnly. "Remember the precipice."

Petrifying herself to his words. Wanting to go home. Stories always had the so-called 'hero' returning home. But, those were just stories. Katja will wander alone and in silence. Fighting the constraints she unknowingly wrapped around herself. Now she was in the world and can never return to solitude. Hating what she had done. Cursing her fate. Wanting to amputate her hand to remove her stigma.

Hot breath ghosted her pale head. The vision of water still being water despite it's location reappearing. "Forever you will be She-Who-Walks-Alone."

Two visions of her materialized: one with her walking within her woods and the other with her walking with those of the Inquisition. Though, she should rephrase the latter – she walked alone at the front, while the others followed. Walking where she walked. Glowing sun-bright within her solitude while the others were grey, blindly walking her steps. Watching her like moths to a flame.

_O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me, stand only in places You have blessed, Sing only the words You place in my throat._

The Canticle of Transfigurations was the closest thing to describe the panorama.

Solitude will always be there. Whether in her past or her future. Physically alone or alone within herself.

The latter vision shifted slightly.

The grey mass that she recognized as having the shape of the Commander shifted forward – beside her. He was walking _beside_ her. Following her steps – _anticipating_ them. Knowing her feet. She was still lonely bright and he still a grey follower. His eyes still on her – trusting her steps. His grey hand reached out ever-so gently and clasped her's – her bright glow merging into his hand. The tattoo of the Flaming Sword on his armor melted off like a liquid. The crest of the Inquisition replaced it.

The grey Commander smiled and said, "My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace, touch me with fire that I be cleansed, tell me I have sung Your approval."

Confusion churning loudly within her. More of the Transfigurations?

"He-Who-Walks-Alongside." Havardr explained. A deep radiant purr vibrated from his chest. Sending ripples through the liquid image, until it, at last, evaporated.

The image was of Havardr's doing. Though why, she did not know. He was not making it clear to Katja. A fact that he seemed amused with. Bright blues and pinks dancing within his thoughts.

"Grow Snow Kitten, grow."

Slowly her eyes opened. A decision, hard as iron was made. She would complete it even if it meant that she had to go alone without their aid. Unafraid.

Katja ate her breakfast quickly. Then put on her best armor and leather. Strapping on the thick, leather vest holding the sheaths for her twin daggers along with said weapons. Twisting her hair in a tight braid and wrapping a blue head-band – keeping her bangs and loose strands under control.

Meeting the rest of the party within the war room. She told them her decision.

Though the rest of the team was having a hard time grasping at _how_ to take Redcliffe Castle.

"We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!"

Katja knew within herself that the Commander, being a former templar, would want to apprehend his old comrades. The others were just running in circles to her as to how it could be done.

_They are gone_, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. They will all know sooner or later the fate of the templars. _They do not need to know. Especially not him._

She blinked, trying to stay neutral and logical, "Alexius's hold the mages holds the most threat Commander. Not only that, but his ability of using time magic. Plus, wouldn't it seem as though Tevinter is trying to conquer Ferelden? With Redcliffe Castle as its base? That is more concerning overall.

"Whatever the templars are doing with –" she stopped herself, "Seeker Lucius, it is not so great. It is done."

She couldn't afford to lose the ground she had with convincing them. The way is shut. They cannot know. Fully believing that if they did, they would turn against her and she would not have the courage or the skills to convince them to go after the mages instead. She would be alone with facing Alexius. Self-preservation telling her that the best odds for her and everyone was to go together.

Logic told her that they would be apprehensive with going either way without her – seeing as both parties were specifically calling for her attendance. If she would take away some sort of perk with being the 'Herald' is that a splintering of her going along to the mages and them to the templars would be bad as a whole. Not to her person, but them and the Inquisition.

The whole affair reminded her of playing chest. It was… a little exiting to her.

Seeing the pieces of the other player – moves played. Gears whirling as to the best strategy of taking the King. Which pieces needed to be sacrificed to allow the best way of survival? When to be aggressive? Passive? Perhaps even to bluff?

Needing this part of her to bring voice. Though she felt like an ice-cold bitch doing so. The unrelenting logic. Verbal debate was much harder than placing pieces on a board in retrospect.

"That cannot be allowed to stand." Cassandra nodded, "It would provoke war between Tevinter and Ferelden. The Arl is already in Denerum seeking aid from the King – which he would no doubt approve. Another war must be avoided."

"The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap." Josephine reasoned.

"We should thank him for that Josephine." Katja said, trying to be logical, "That is the first step in evasion and countering."

"Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults." Katja saw his face upturn in the 'anger' category, "If you go in there, you'll die. And we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it." Then, suddenly flipped slightly between 'anger' and 'sad'.

To hell with her ignorance of facial reads!

"There are more than one way to capture that doesn't involve bashing our skulls on stone." Wasn't it obvious to them? "Do you see a knife behind a smooth caress?" She asked, though the team got slightly perturbed when she didn't elaborate.

So, to make it plain, and feeling slightly embarrassed, "I'm already invited in, and I'm sure Alexius and his guards will be focused on me to notice little knives in the dark."

Their faces lit up.

"Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters. It's risky, but it could work." Said the Commander.

Was the most outspoken of not going was slowly consenting? Maybe she was getting better with speaking than she thought.

Leliana nodded, "There is a passage. It was used for an escape route for the family. It's too small for our troops, but agents could be sent through."

The door to the war room suddenly burst open.

"Fortunately, you'll have help." Came a suave, bold voice.

The poor agent was right behind him, "This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander."

Katja's face lit up, "Oh, good to see you Dorian."

"Of course Lady Trevelyan." He then addressed the group, "Your spies will never get past Alexius's magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along."

"Yes, because he wouldn't detect your flair a mile away." Katja smiled mischievously, "Welcome aboard the Inquisition's merry band of misfits. Any information you can assist to this operation's success would be beneficial."

Dorian smiled and bowed. "My pleasure."

Katja saw the Commander frown heavily, "The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you are unwilling to play the bait."

_That way is shut Commander._ She wanted to tell him.

Instead she said, "I walk into danger the moment I leave my warm bed in the morning. This is just a little more excitement than usual. I'll be sure to put on a good show for Alexius."

Absolutely hating the fact that she only told part of the truth. That she knew more than what was let on. The selfish part of her told her that it was necessary. They needn't know that the templars were under the control of an Envy demon that their minds and bodies were poisoned from red lyrium. They didn't need to know the force behind both parties.

The buried, dark, small part of her heart that burned ragefully eternal, was joyous – smiling and laughing – to hear that the templars were going mad. That they were being fucked with like broken cunts.

The part of her wanting to get the show on the road. Pushing aside Havardr's words – denying them.

She wasn't the 'King' piece.

The meeting was going according to plan, until shit really started.

That piece of shit magister used his time amulet on her and Dorian. Making a mental note to play some stabby-stab with him in the near future. Er, so to speak. So, now she was one year into the future that was real shitty.

This Elder One had taken over the world.

Gears whirled in her brain. Was this 'Elder One' and the black shadow thing the same? It seemed that way. At least they were still in Redcliffe Castle – kind of. Red lyrium growing like fungi on the walls and floors.

Dorian had a possible solution to the whole mess: get Alexius's amulet and transport them back. Mission accepted.

Currently within the bowels of the Castle, the prison, they found the two companions that Katja had tagged along one year prior – The Iron Bull and Varric; along with finding Grand Enchanter Fiona. All of them poisoned from the red lyrium within their cells. They haven't lost their minds thankfully.

What turned her to ice was that this world came to pass without her. That she was absent. That without her to right the wrongs of the world that it would all burn. A world without her wasn't a world worth living in.

Feeling a compression on her skin at the thought. Her mark felt itchy.

Fighting through he cold, dark prison underbelly of the Castle a wet, cracking sound reverberated from the walls. One voice talking the other laughing.

A familiar Veil-pull ghosted her skin. It was foreign and familiar. Filled with anger and pain.

Closer she and her compatriots got to it the more defined the voices became.

"The Elder One demands you tell where the False-Herald went!"

An electric sound and a loud, deep scream vibrated the walls.

A manic laughter, "A little more bite would suffice."

Commander?

It was his, but it was tainted with something else entirely. Holding her daggers more firmly she rushed to the room with the two voices – her compatriots in close toe. Seeking to rescue the Commander with her. Pouring her mana into her right dagger, the magic cut through he heavy, thick door like a knife through butter.

The surprise intrusion had the torturer spin. In a brief second, the chains that held the Commander to the wall, pulled and broke. Said Commander, whipped the broken chains around and smacked harshly against the torturer. Sending him flying in a broken heap to the adjacent wall. Cullen rushed to the torturer with blinding speed, pulled the cuffs from his wrists off with inhuman strength in the process, and proceeded to punch and bash the torturers skull into a bloody mess. The impact heavily damaged the wall and the armor the unfortunate torturer wore.

Once finished, did the Commander turn to assess the would-be rescuers.

A sick, nauseating feeling filled her gut.

He was saturated with red lyrium.

The red crystals poked from his head and back like fungi would to insects. Seemingly like a demented red crown. His remaining hair on top of his head was death-white, long and curled wildly. The scar on his lip nearly split his face asymmetrically up to his hair-line like a deformed cat-lip. The angry-red glow from the lyrium blazed through the scar and when he opened his mouth. On the same side, his eye was missing, a lyrium fissure growing in its place. His skin was a pale grey and cracking like an old oil painting. Patches of the crystallized red lyrium blotted his skin like a the black plague, the heaviest on the tops of his hands and feet and shoulders – protruding like angry thorns.

The thick blood from the dead torturer splattered on his muscled, naked torso; heavy goblets on his hands, lazily trickling down. Garbed in only his leather pants, which were filthy and heavily stained. Small thorny lyrium spikes protruded his legs.

What made her freeze in fear was the look the Commander had in his one eye. Bright glowing red, blazing like a predator would prey.

Blind madness. Rage.

Her compatriots slowly stepped out of the room. Too damn scared.

Burning her fear, Katja sheathed her daggers, and very slowly approached the Commander. Doubting that if she startled him that his ire would let her live. She would be fucked and the whole world fucked. She would be another bloody pool on the ground.

Cocking his head at her approach.

Now within his arm's reach, or the 'kill parameter' as she would call it. Having a stare-down with the crazed Commander.

Her skin felt like little claws were scratching her from the proximity of such a high-concentration of red lyrium. Toughing it out, standing still.

Cullen raised his hands and placed them on the sides of her face. They were stupid hot, the red crystals clicking from his hand movement. Smelling the copper from the blood of the dead torturer – dried and flaking on her skin.

His face softened as he lowered it – pressing their foreheads together.

Her head pounding as confusion raced in her mind at this type of tenderness.

"They all believed you were dead," he said softly, an underlining metallic sound to his voice, "I never let you go. I would see you when I would hear the song – pulling me away from its madness. I don't care how this came to pass, but I will follow. Lead me Katja."

_He-Who-Walks-Alongside._ The words ringing in her mind.

_He said my name._ She absently thought.

Clutching her hands together, clearing her throat from the sudden dryness, "Dorian thinks he can reverse what Alexius has done. Sending us back; stopping this from happening."

"Done. I will follow to the end Katja." He was absolute, "But, their's something I want to do. I fear I may never have another chance."

She raised her eyebrow. Suddenly both were raised and she was petrified frozen as his lips touched hers. Cullen was _kissing_ her.

Unsure as to it was the act itself or the lyrium that made her legs want to give out.

The pressure of his lips released. Blinking a few times from her stupor.

"I'm sorry." He said gently, softly, "That was… um… really nice." A slight redness ghosting his unmarred cheek. His expression so soft like baby skin.

Her brain ceased to function. After a few stalled attempts, it restarted. Like a trebuchet that wouldn't launch but suddenly sprang to life.

"I, ah… glad you… liked it?" Strange tingles rippling under her skin. A small heat pooling at her neither region. It frightened her.

"Thank you. I don't regret it."

Katja felt a little awkward around him from then on. Going through the Castle, finding the enchanted keys to open Alexius's hide-away. He would stay close to her. His presence always searching for danger. When it did arrive, whether it was soldiers or darkspawn, he was the first to attack. Beating them with his inhuman strength. The quickness and ferocity were high in the violence scale. Bones breaking, armor tearing like paper. The opposite those same hands had when they held her.

Burying the feelings – she'll deal with it later.

Facing Alexius was an easy task. Dorian took the enchanted time amulet – the same one that led them here to begin with – and examined it. He confirmed that he could make it work, reverse them back.

That was before an army of darkspawn banged on the front door. A loud roar accompanying it.

Varric and Bull on the front line of that – trying to hold them off, buying them some time.

The ferocious Commander stayed within the room with them. Keeping guard.

Violently, the chamber doors came off their hinges. The bodies of Varric and Bull being trampled by darkspawn and demons. Without hesitation, Cullen rushed to meet them.

"Cullen!" she cried out to him.

"Don't move Trevelyan! I've almost got it!" shouted Dorian.

When she looked back at the Commander, he had two swords within his body, but he still kept going. A pile of darkspawn and demons dead. Until a sneaky one came behind him, overwhelmed him, and slit his throat. It's brethren burying their rusty, broken swords into his body. And he fell. His red, crystallized blood soaking the marble, tiled ground.

Then it was light.

Eyes shifting like a curtain was revealed. She was back. Varric and Bull were here – alive. All was right with the world – to a point.

Turning slowly to face the magister. A look of deadly rage welled within her expression, poised like a predator. The room deadly quiet. Target locked on. A single focused intensity.

"Kitten…" Ignore.

"Boss." Unimportant.

"Lady Trevelyan." Irrelevant.

Hearing faint footsteps behind her, sliding it out of her mind. She wanted to set him on fire. Kill. Burn. Stab. Bleed. Die. Her small inner self was laughing hysterically.

Her target went on his knees. Making it easy, knowing its fate. Good.

"Trevelyan!" a clear deep voice broke her kill instinct. Stopping her before muscles expanded for the kill.

Turning her head slowly to the voice that broke her reverie.

Commander. The one without the taint of the red lyrium. Alive. Noticing two others in regal outfits beside him; they were of little importance.

"Trevelyan, we've secured the Castle. The mages have laid down their staffs." He reported, oblivious as to the last couple hours of her life – the alternate. Only a moment within this time.

Furrowing his blond brows in confusion.

Closing her eyes, forcing her instinct to the bottom of her conscious. Breathing it out heavily. When she opened her eyes, it wasn't so dark to her. Giving the frightened magister her attention of a different sort.

"You will answer Alexius." She said. Then, quickly, casting a Sleep spell on him. Hunching over in his induced sleep.

* * *

**[A.N]** Thank you blueRAYE13, KirbyCap and Auroratorialus for the favs/follows! Also, guest reviewer Rae. I wish more folks would tell me when I make embarrassing errors like that. I revise chapters several times but I don't always succeed with finding those mistakes.

As a side note and trivia, on my timeline rough draft I have a note about Red Cullen and it states 'fuck up Cullen with red lyrium' with a smiley face by it. I did it with love though. :3 With some serious sadism. In a way, he is grotesquely handsome – I'd tap that. But, on a more happier note, they kissed‼ Although, future/past Cullen won't know. Katja won't be able to have a proper sit-down with her feelings on Cullen for the next couple of chapters, because well, if you played the game you know what's comin' up. Bitches it get real up in here.

Wanna see Red Lyrium Cullen?

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/Red-Cullen-510655931


	9. Vermilion

Chapter 8: Vermilion

The Commander frowned. Though 'frowning' would be minuscule to the mood he was in.

Trevelyan debriefed them, with Dorian's testimony, over what happened within the Castle. With as few sentences and deviations as she recanted the story of a world in her absence. That this 'Elder One' turned the world into chaos – the source of the Breach. The Assassination of Empress Celene. A demon army. Without her…

Not even wanting to picture himself being, once again, captured and tortured. Being turned into a living conduit of red lyrium. Surprising to hear that he remained unbroken from the torture and the mad song of the lyrium. He couldn't imagine going through that and remain a beacon of fortitude and resilience. But he did. He did and he ultimately sacrificed himself at the end so that she could return here; in this time.

That part at least, was easy to swallow. Sacrificing something of himself was within his realm of traits. Especially for the greater good. Trading his life for the possibility of the alternate could be reversed? The choice would have been easy. A small, trifle price.

What got his blood boiling was her suggestion of absolving the mages into the Inquisition. The very same ones who were responsible for the war!

"If we were to punish them Commander, we might as well punish their templar counterparts – which would include the ones who have already joined the Inquisition. Are they not also responsible?" She point-based told him, "Fiona did what she believed was the best option in a no-win situation to protect her charges. It was under Alexius's orders that the Arl and most of the population in Redcliffe were expelled. It was no longer under Fiona's or any of the subjugated mages what transpired.

"Let it lie down. With the alternative, I'd say the situation could have been far worse. Fiona has agreed to still be over to the mages but to submit to the Inquisition's authority. Just as the templars who have freely joined us have. This way, _we_ watch them and they not each other."

Slowly, did the other leaders consent to her solution. Even himself – though begrudgingly. Her logical course of action.

It was too soon to say whether it was the right decision for the right reason.

Even though he felt a nagging voice in the back of his mind say that she _knew_ something the other's didn't. What it was he could not say. It was the same feeling when she convinced them to go to Redcliffe instead of Therinfall Redoubt. She would list reasons that it was the sound decision, but never _why_. Somehow, the way she placed those reasons, would overrule the _why_.

Part of him wanted to retrieve his former comrades. That was the problem and part of the reason he consented: they were his _former_ comrades. Still holding them in esteem and respect. However needed to distance his old life from his current status.

Trevelyan's simple, logical, neutral thinking would poke holes into their own logic and reasons. She would listen, and even would agree with points that were made. However, she would ultimately give an unyielding stance on matters. It was solid decision-making, and none of them could poke holes into it. He would see, although later after much consideration, the truth of her words. Seeing that he was partially biased on previous experience with both templars and mages. He would have thought she was being biased with choosing mages and absolving them, but later dismissed it. Trevelyan wasn't considering either party 'off the hook' so to speak.

Cullen could admire that trait of Trevelyan. She would see decisions logically and stand by it even when others disagreed or even admit herself her dislike of it. Even her nervousness when speaking it – evident of his observation of her clasping hands.

It made her seem much more real to the Commander.

That troubled him.

The Commander wasn't a dullard, a fool, or unschooled of himself to know his growing infatuation with her. Often cursing and mentally reprimanding himself. _That_ made him feel a fool.

_It isn't… my place to love her. To have feelings for her._

Keeping those feelings locked away within his heart like so many others.

Coupled with those troubling thoughts were the continuing pains of his lyrium withdrawal. His head pounded demandingly and his left shoulder ached through the bone.

It was like that all the way back to Haven. They allowed themselves a week's respite before their march on to the Breach with the hope of closing it. There were plenty to do during that week. Sending scouts ahead to make sure the path to the ruined Temple was clear. Setting a larger makeshift camp for the mages – that was on the opposite side of the templar's. Small scuffles from both parties, but nothing that Knight-Commander Aedelric or Grand Enchanter Fiona couldn't manage. Along with his other Commander duties.

He didn't see her during that time. However, he received reports from Cassandra and the other members of the council of her goings on. Mainly trying to smooth over relations of the mages. It wasn't until they were actually at the Breach that he saw her again.

Trevelyan was very nervous – if the constant clenching and clasping of her hands were of any indication.

It was agreed beforehand the rebel mages along with the templars that have joined be present. Her reasoning is that "I don't want to be unconscious for another three days because we didn't have that one templar or mage to help power my mark. Plus, it would be helpful just in case shit does go south."

No dispute there.

Both groups along with regular foot soldiers within their separate sections of the ruined Temple. Her companions behind her. The three mages – Solas, Dorian and Vivienne – willing to assist with lending their strength. Holding their breath, waiting for their command.

A strange thought occurred to him, _Funny that only two months prior the same gathering occurred. All because a powerful woman asked them to work together._

Praying that a similar result didn't occur.

"Okay, here we go. Ready yourselves!" She shouted before pointing her scared palm to the Breach.

The green-yellow waves of light flowed from her hand, but it was minuscule when the sudden influx of energy once the templars and mages joined forth. Trevelyan cried out from its force, but maintained the stream. Her right hand holding her left arm steady from the shaking. Her legs becoming unsteady.

Alarm bells ringing in his head when he saw blisters and welts appear on Trevelyan's left arm. Thin trickles of blood running from the wounds.

"I got it!" She cried through gritted teeth. Her normally neutral face crunched in pain. Small tears down her cheeks.

A moment later, the light ceased. Trevelyan falling backwards. The Commander was close enough to catch her before her fall. Helping her set up on her shaking legs. Out of breath, she said "Thank you." Her scared palm on his shoulder – feeling the scorching heat through his armor. The burns and welts grotesque. The sickly green light from her palm brighter than usual.

He was about to call for one of the mages to heal her before thunder cracked causing a whip-lash in the air. The atmosphere seemed to shift. Green sparks coming out of the Breach.

Dread filled his gut.

He saw Trevelyan's eyes widen before grabbing one of her daggers.

"Get ready!" Was all she could say before balls of light spat out of the Breach. Demons slithering out of the muck.

Two steps ahead, unsheathing Sigurd and dawning his shield, he charged forward.

The slaughter reminded him too much those first few days after the Conclaves destruction. The waves of demons seemed to stretch on. Not far into the fray, he noticed that Trevelyan only using one of her daggers, her other arm hanging limply, the one with her mark. Her movements slow from her usual speed and grace. Spells small. Her tight braid having been unwound causing her hair to flail wildly. Quickly fighting to her side – protecting her. Instantly realizing the toll of her exertion of closing the Breach left her vulnerable.

Seemingly at the same time, he noticed Knight-Commander Aedelric within their small throng. Recognizing his full armor of a Knight-Commander. Keeping close to her as well.

Green lights and clanking filled his senses. His battle high raging within his limbs. Soon becoming action and reaction. Movements attuned and trained for. His strikes fast and strong where as the demons low and lazy.

As the demons dwindled, he felt his second wave of energy pool from his muscles. The thrill and hot blood coursing his veins. Primal thoughts of his vanquished enemies added vigor to his aching limbs.

Noticing that she was being overwhelmed by a Rage demon, rushing to her side. Using his shield to push her away from an impending attack. It costed him though.

Too slow to raise his sword or pull his shield. The position of pushing her out of harm's way left him vulnerable. The Rage demons hot, molten claws stabbed him through his armor and out his belly.

Copper-tasting blood filled his mouth. Head swimming. No longer feeling pain from the fried nerves. Sounds becoming muted. The lights becoming dim.

_I'm going to die._

A miniscule sensation of ice cold passed by his skin and the heat vanished. Falling. Hard earth.

Eyes closing.

A single point of white and green sparked, in front of it formed the image of a beautiful woman. Bright silver-white hair cascading down in light curls. Compassionate, burning red eyes. Full, pinkish lips that he ached to kiss. Her face was so kind. Cupping her hands together, a bright, warm, green fire ignited. She was so beautiful – his heart swelling with love and reverence. The wild smell of pine and dewy grass wafted into his nose. It smelt like his home in Ferelden. Home.

_Andraste… you have come for me. Take me within your arms. Cleanse me with your fire._

Warm, liquid, green lights danced his mind. Feeling his body floating, aching to her. Burning his sins and transgressions. Before switching to black.

Blue needles. Poking. Prodding.

"Won't you please?" She would call out. Soothing. Tempting.

Chants and prayers cycling through his head. His feelings of calmness and admiration flipping to dread and panic.

_Andraste, where have you gone?_

"Captain we have the mages secure. We must kill them. There are blood mages among them!"

The cries. The screams. The blood on his hands. His consent.

Tearing, ripping blue barbs held him down. Digging angrily into his flesh. Forcing his eyes open.

A ghost of himself came forth. His eyes angrily blazing. His old, templar armor shining brilliantly. The ghost self grabbed hold of a forming arm in the nothingness. The sudden jerk formed the body of a beautiful woman with dark hair and glowing lyrium-blue eyes that was dressed in only a shear gown.

He… knew her.

"Cullen, don't go. I'm sorry I left you. Please take me."

His ghost self roughly bent her over. Her face slapping on Cullen's bare chest. Soft hands clasping, digging into his shoulders. Her face in nervousness as his ghost ripped the shear gown away exposing her moist core. In a flurry of movement his ghost thrusted into her.

Her face in pain if it weren't for the moans and cries of ecstasy. Skin thrusting against skin. Wet, moist sounds from each contact. The strong smell of sex.

With every fiber of his being, Cullen fought against the images. Half-knowing that they weren't true. His body was betraying him in the worst of ways.

Old loves. Old, unrequited loves burned in heart.

She then acknowledged him. Her glowing lyrium-blue eyes all the brighter and she smiled.

"Do you get nervous? Perversed? When you see her it's worse." **[*]**

In one final cry she came … with a sword through her mouth.

The blood dripping on Cullen's face and eyes. Blinding him. Enveloping him in his own darkness.

The ground loosened and he was falling.

Cullen screamed his determination to defeat the desires. They were twists of his self.

"Ah… you have a growing desire?" An echoy, feminine voice called from the darkness, "More than your other lost loves?"

A hard floor greeted him. Knocking the wind from his lungs – bruising his legs and back. He attempted to stand while blinking out the blood that had dripped onto his eyes.

In his blurry vision he recognized it as the main hall of the Chantry at Haven. Small pews lined the walls and the front of the statues.

She was sitting on one.

"Trevelyan…" He whispered.

Turning her head to face the sound of his voice. She smiled brightly while getting up from the pew and ran to him. Her silver tresses flowing behind her in a snowy banner. Her ruby eyes glowing in joy. The candles casted an ethereal glow around her – singing to her beauty.

The pressure in his chest tightened – his voice catching.

Kneeling beside him, "Ah! Cullen, it's good to see you. You've arrived in time! I was starting to think you have forgotten about that kiss you promised me."

His mind in a bind from his earlier experience only managed to stutter, "W-what?"

White brows furled in worry, "Are you okay Cullen? You never forgot about our little rendezvous."

Backing away from Katja – certain that this was still a dream. He hadn't started a relationship with her. Did he?

"That's okay if you forgot. We've been busy here at Haven the last few days. I didn't think we'd get a little privacy." She dismissed.

"This … this isn't real." He breathed.

"Andrate's sweet teats," she sighed, "Yes it's real Cullen. And are you sure you are okay? You did take a nasty fall yesterday. But, knowing you, you just shrugged it off and went about your duties. If your experiencing amnesia we should talk to Solas."

This was… too surreal.

"This is a dream…"

"No it's not." She gently grabbed his gloved, armored hand – when did he have armor on? Why does his head hurt? – and placed it on her cheek, "See? I feel real right? I'm me, right?"

The pressure on his head intensified, making his body feel light.

She was warm.

"Your – your warm." He whispered.

"Told you. Would I feel warm if this was a dream? Sometimes it feels like it, but that's just because you make me happy." She smiled and blushed prettily.

Bronze eyes began to drift. Tingles danced across his skin.

She wrapped her arms around him.

"All you had to do was say 'yes' Cullen. And I let you in. Will you say 'yes' again for me?"

Wanting to. He wanted to so badly. His voice caught on the word. The incredible sensation of her arms around him. The wild pine and dewy grass smell from her hair and skin.

He could feel himself become erect from desire.

Rosy lips chuckled, "Someone knows how to say 'yes'."

Cullen fell a little more.

"Well then, looks like I'm gonna have to work for it huh?" She whispered in his ear. Sending delicious shivers down his spine. He felt warmth across his cheeks.

With nimble fingers, she clasped his right hand and oh-so-slowly raised it – while tickling the tips across her hips and torso – and had it cup her full breast. It molded around the fullness and feeling the nipple budding in his hand through the subtle cloth. Was she always clothed?

Lungs catching on his breath.

Katja nipped lightly on his chin. Her soft mouth warm and inviting. Sensual and coy.

Blue tendrils began to tighten around his feet.

He heard the clasps on her tunic loosen and the garment fell to the floor unceremoniously exposing her naked torso.

Katja raised his right hand to her full mouth and used her lips and teeth to pull off his leather glove. It went with her leather tunic on the floor. The guided hand went back to her breast. The flesh soft, warm, precious, perfect. Without prompt, he placed his other hand on the opposite breast.

Ruby red eyes smiled invitingly.

Sensual lips went back to kissing his cheeks and jaw. Gaining ground closer to his lips.

He couldn't protest. And he didn't want to.

The room began to darken. Lace barbs of blue encircling his legs. Climbing ever higher.

"All you have to do is say 'yes' my lion." Whispering in his ear.

He was about to when a faint voice called out to him, "He doesn't need to say 'yes' to you ass-bag!"

The veil of his hallucination lifted and he saw the truth.

Cullen was in the Fade and a Desire demon was clutching him with long, bony fingers. It's mouth wide with long, sharp teeth and covered a third of its face. It's beady eyes black. Hair inky black and limp. Skin pale and lifeless.

Bronze eyes widened in horror as he moved to retract from the demon. He couldn't move!

The Desire demon scream pierced his ears when it realized the intruder.

In a quick movement, a swirl of light came between him and the demon. The light severing the demon's long, claw-like hands from his skin. The demon's screeching cry reverberated in the space of the Fade.

"He's mine!" The demon proclaimed.

"The hell he is!"

The Commander saw his savior. With her pale, snow hair and fiery red eyes and ethereal twin blades.

In a small horror, he realized that she must have seen him falling for the Desire demon's wiles. While it was cloaked in her form. Him touching… becoming… _Oh Maker!_

_She saw! She saw and she _knows_!_

In his silent horror, she vanquished the Desire demon with a slice of her ethereal blades.

The ground became unstable. Cullen was able to move then, the hold the demon managed on him faded. Katja rushed to him, her swords dissipated. Her face filled with dread. Small, strong arms wrapped around him like a vice. The touch sending sensations throughout his body.

"Hold on Cullen!" She shouted.

With that the ground disappeared, and they were falling. Out of instinct he held on to her.

Fearlessness hard as stone on her face. Unafraid. While he was terrified… if he died…

He prayed hard.

Katja closed her eyes. The Fade began to shift. Instantaneously yellow ribbon-like tendrils popped out of the nothingness and envelope them. Holding them tightly together. Halting their decent into the Void. They bounced up and down from residual force of falling for a long moment before halting in the empty space.

His heart beating furiously in his chest, making his ears throb.

For a moment they stayed still. The near-death experience for the Commander subsided. For a brief moment, he dared enjoy the thought of having Katja close to him. His muscled arms around her curved waist. Fingers daring to dig into the cloth that would touch her skin. Her warm breath on his neck. The pine and dew grass smell in her silver-white hair. Her soft, strong hands wrapped around his naked back –

_Maker's Breath I'm naked!_

Self-conscious heat flooding his cheeks. Try as he could, despite the proximity, to maintain some decency.

"Well, that was fun." It was meant to lighten his situation, but it did nothing for his lingering embarrassment and shame.

She pulled her head out from the crook of his neck to look him in the eye. He couldn't properly look at her without giving away his feelings or have his body betray him.

"I… Cullen…"

He didn't want to see the possible look of disappointment on her face. Of her seeing his weakness. His inappropriate behavior he had regarding her.

"Thank you Cullen. For saving me. You were very brave."

A moment passed before she spoke again, "I managed to heal your wounds Cullen. Was it okay that I used magic on you?"

He couldn't speak, afraid his voice would betray him as well.

"I'm sorry if you didn't. but, it would have been too late to get you to a healer. You were dying, Cullen."

"It's not that." He said softly, daring to speak. "I should be the one who's sorry. I didn't intended for you to get involved in… this."

For a moment she was silent. The silence didn't help his shame or embarrassment one bit.

She sighed, "It's alright Cullen. I think were even now." She chuckled, but it was a forced one. "Since were no longer in danger. You can try to wake up."

"Oh, right."

Trouble was, he didn't want to wake up. He would go back to being the Commander and she… the Herald. That invisible veil between them. His duty began to ring in his head in earnest – reminding him of his vows.

_I will not give less… Even if it means I must, once again, sacrifice._

Keeping his longing in his heart, he began to awaken out of the Fade. Katja's sweet touch leaving tingles on his skin.

When he opened his eyes the lighting was dim. He breathed a soft sigh. He recognized the brown of the tent and a flicker of a candle. A soft blanket covered his half-naked body. Cassandra was standing by the tent entrance – anxiety plastered on her face. The elf, Solas, sat in a small stool next to his cot – face expressionless. He saw Katja cross-legged in the middle of the tent.

He blinked his bronze eyes away from her as she roused from their shared Fade trip. She blinked awake and sat up. Ruby eyes gazing at him, keeping their usual neutrality.

Unable to look at her after she saw him. What his desire is.

He started to lift himself out of the cot –

"Commander, lay back down. You must rest from your ordeal." Solas instructed not unkindly.

He made a move to protest, but Cassandra stopped him, "That's an order Commander. Do so willingly or we will strap you down."

He begrudgingly obeyed.

"At least tell me how the battle went."

He was emotionally and mental sore from his Fade trip. He was in no mood to be listless about in bed. Wanting something to do to prove that he was fine. Perhaps to make Katja – the Herald – forget ever seeing his weakness. True to the Herald's word, his physical wounds were healed. The lack of scaring and linens were a testament to her healing capabilities.

His hands began to shake. Both from the mental wounds and the resuming of his withdrawal.

Now wasn't a good time for an episode for the Commander.

Cassandra gave him one of her looks, but replied, "It was a success Commander. You can rest easy. We'll be returning back to Haven in the morrow once we finish here. _Until then_, you will rest. If it weren't for Trevelyan, you would either be dead or possessed."

He was about to protest, when she cut him off, "Leliana and myself will take care of your duties until then Commander."

Sighing heavily that boarder-lined on groaning. Cullen reasoned that an overnight respite wouldn't hurt. Although it would leave him open to his memories and drifting thoughts. A reason he liked to stay busy – and awake.

"Alright Cassandra." There would be no point in arguing with her.

"Good, and I would hope you don't need someone to watch you."

"No."

"Good. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

The brusque woman left the tent.

"And if you need any medical treatment, I'm available to help." The elf nodded and left him.

Leaving him alone with…

He couldn't.

"Cullen…"

The Commander heard Trevelyan step closer, but he was surprised that she sat on an vacant spot on his cot. The proximity sending heat throughout his body, threatening him to blushing. He had to look at her.

It wasn't as he feared. She had a look of calm neutralness, but maybe it was the lighting of the candle that he detected a hint of softness in her reddish eyes. His heart ached with longing.

She inched her face closer to his.

Waves of panic seized the Commander that rendered him paralyzed.

_Is she… surely she isn't about to…_

The closer her oval face got to his the more certain he was. His bronze eyes locked with her ruby ones. He couldn't look away. Trevelyan's left hand clasped gently on his folded hands. Soft, warm, delicate. Feeling the bumps of calluses.

They stopped shaking. He was still.

_Maybe… just once… Just this once Maker…_

Their foreheads and the tips of their noses touched. Cullen's nerves were on fire for a different reason. Heart beating frantically. Her gaze unwavering. Part of her snow-white hair cascaded down one side of his face. The smell of pine needles wafted gingerly within his nose. The delicate tendrils tickling his skin.

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat.

Gently, softly she said, "I see you."

* * *

**[A.N]** A thank you to my new follower dekicobee!

I would like to that Goku and his kai-o-ken kamehameha against Vegeta for inspiration on the Breach closing.

**[*]** A tip of the hat to a certain metal band. :) Well, technically _all_ the chapters are odes to perspective songs. But this one more so. As a factoid, this was one of my first chapters I actually wrote and the whole premise of the story is based on the song.


	10. Prisonic Fairytale

Chapter 9 : Prisonic Fairytale

Katja was a fool. She spent so much time seeing the Flaming Sword plastered on Cullen. She didn't see. She didn't see _him_. The man. A man that was desperately trying to gain control of his life. Who wanted to do the right thing and atone. A man with integrity and loyalty. So much so that he left the Order to keep himself when it failed in its own principals. It had begun to crumble the more time she spent the Commander, though it remained and with it her suspicions – her distrust. Even when he had proven over and over.

All it took was him pushing her out of the way from the Rage demons claws.

She was too slow to dodge, but Cullen… he took it for her.

What she saw in the Fade. It was a twisted perversion of his inner desires, but it was a desire non-the-less. Katja didn't see what form the demon took on, but surmised that it was strong enough that the Commander was falling for it.

If she hadn't caught him in time, they would be short a Commander.

She had tried ruthlessly to find him. Countless times in her past to detect the Veil-pull of templars thanks to their obsessive intake of lyrium. But with him, it was distant, even in the Fade where everything was amplified.

Now that her face was pressed on his and her hands clasped on his shaking palms, she understood why.

Cullen wasn't taking the lyrium. The one absolute quality of a templar and he was refusing to oblige those demands. Looking back, she felt a diminish of his Veil-pull from the moment they meet but didn't understand why. She didn't see his trembles or uneasy manner as a result of the withdrawal.

Cullen, the Commander, was willing to undergo the pain of lyrium withdrawal for the sake of atonement and fulfilling whatever vows he took for the Inquisition.

With one final push, the Flaming Sword diminished – crumbling away.

_I see you._

With her renewed sight, she was able to admit to something she had been fighting. She… _liked_ him.

At this point it was too soon to gauge whether or not it was anything other than sexual. She could admit that he was handsome. His jaw was strong with the aid of stubble of late nights; his mouth a pleasing shape when he grinned crookedly on the side of his thin scar; a strong, straight nose; bronze eyes shined from those grins or turned to metal in seriousness; wavy, thick hair the color of harvest wheat.

He was… very handsome.

Guiltily admitting to herself as she filed away his physical traits when his armor and shirt were removed. His masculinity and hard physical training evident with every muscular crease when he moved and breathed. Also, the scars that were hidden from the armor. Scars that looked similar to burns. The most predominate was the patch the size of a hand on Cullen's left shoulder. Smaller, sporadic blots on his back. A wild guess as to how he received those. Close enough to smell him. Which he smelt like leather, sword oil, sweat, and a hint of dried thyme. Liking it.

Let's not forget his admirable personality qualities.

Again, she said softly, "I see you."

The Commander's eyes were wide. Taking a guess it was due to her proximity. She was quite literally in his face. Probably thinking her breath was funky or she was smelly from the battle at the Breach. Which was more than likely true. She did have demon guts and blood on her. Very honestly not caring how or what she smelt like, but even she had her limits of her own personal odor. Demon blood and guts were not on her forte of personal fragrances.

Lifting her lumpy head away from the Commanders. Giving him back his personal space.

Redness ghosted his cheeks.

_Oh shit I made him angry‼_

Though that was the only indication that he was angry. His brows weren't furrowed, no frown, or tight fists. Greatly becoming confused because some of the cues were that of 'surprise' but the flushing was reminiscing of 'anger'. What emotion would have a mixture of 'surprise' and 'anger'?

"I, ah, see you too." The Commander softly whispered.

He most certainly didn't sound an ounce angry.

_Maybe flushing means something else?_ With her lack of social skills it was possible. _He did admit once after I caught him flushing that he was 'surprised'. _Though she doubted that's what it was.

Feeling rather stupid, she let it lie. The Commander was alive and well and that was what mattered.

"I have to ask: How is your hand? It was burned the last I saw it." He queried.

Guessing that he was concerned, she answered, "It's alright Commander." Lifting the hand in question so that he could see it, the bright green glow casting a soft luminescence. Feeling the lingering heat from touching his still hands. "It actually healed by itself within an hour after all those demons were vanquished. I'm guessing it's the mark's influence. I am… glad you were there. I couldn't lift or feel my arm after my attempt at closing the Breach." Trying to explain to him the phenomena.

He looked away, "That is… good. At least you won't need any healing or re-train your arm."

She nodded.

"So, do you know why those demons came out of the Breach?" He inquired.

Humming in thought, she replied, "I don't know. Perhaps it was the Breach's death-throws or those demon's last ditch effort of crossing over. Either way, it is done. Solas says the heavens are scared but calm. I'm inclining on agreeing. The Veil doesn't feel so thin as it once was."

At least, that part is done. Thoughts drifting back to that shadow _thing_ and it's connection to the causation of the Breach. The whole fuck up of her life.

"So, I'll… leave you to your rest Commander. Do you need anything? Water? Food?" She asked.

"I, ah, no. Thank you."

Katja nodded and exited the tent.

In her walk, almost everyone was either bowing or fisting their chests. The more it was done in her presence the more accustomed to her blocking the action. It still troubled her though. Doubting that it will ever ease into her mind.

She had a small mission. Walking through the templar camp, feeling the familiar stares. Inputting in each face. Finding the templar she was looking for. He was a huge, big guy – the templar armor he wore only added to his imposing height. Armor she recognized as the regalia of a Knight-Commander. His helmet obscuring most of his face, but she recognized it regardless. Tuffs of his thick, pale blond beard coming out. Dark blue eyes looking at her.

The templar reminded her of a Great Bear.

Little echoes of her memories rang softly in her head.

_"I love you Little Great Bear. I wish you weren't going away. Promise you'll write please?"_

_"I promise Big Cat. The Order doesn't prohibit writing to our wild, runt sisters. I love you too."_

"Herald." He fisted his chest, voice loud and deep. Ending the happy-sad memory.

Forcing the memory away. _It was a thousand years ago, _she said to herself_, and a million miles away. It might as well have been another girl that experienced it._

Clasping her hands. Wondering why she was near a templar willingly. Dismissing the feelings, she was above that – slowly gaining ground on herself.

Clearing her throat. "I've come to thank you Ser. For, um, helping me. And give my thanks to the other templars, too. For the Breach."

For a moment the Knight-Commander was silent. His face was hard as iron.

He fisted his chest and bowed more slowly. "It was nothing Herald." Katja saw his throat tighten. "If you… ever require anything of the Inquisition's templars, you need only to ask. We are yours."

Feeling more of a compression on her skin from the words. _We are yours._

It was the same with Fiona, but it didn't feel so tight. They are hers.

Mentally shaking the feeling away, redirecting herself to the outskirts of the camp. Finding the tallest tree, she unlaced her boots, and begun to climb. Climbing mid-way before finding a decent branch. Stopping there, crouching and hugging herself – chin resting on her folded arms. Looking at where the Breach once was. Analyzing the air and Veil patterns. For some time she stayed in that position and intense analyzing.

"Ya know Kitten you'll cause another giant hole in the sky if you keep staring." Recognizing the nickname-caller and the sound of the witty voice.

She lightly smiled, "One can never be too certain Varric."

A loud grunt, "Boss, certainty is good and all, but if the sky was ripped open again, we'd all know it."

"Really Lady Trevelyan we should be celebrating. I managed to smuggle some wine and had a tent set up. Come down." Offered Dorian.

"Not enough for your frilly arse to get drunky, eh?" Remarked Sera.

"Just one of many to come once we return to Haven."

"So, really Lady Trevelyan, let us get out of this awful cold." Called out Vivienne, "Celebration is in the works in your name. You shouldn't be swinging in a tree like a Rivaini monkey."

She sighed. It was moot to celebrate. It was premature. That black, shadow _thing_ was still out there. If she were _it_, retaliation would be in order. They were on borrowed time. Wanting it to show itself. Wanting to play some stab-time with the source of the fuckery of her life.

When she made no move to come down, Varric made a daring suggestion to Bull, "Hey Tiny, ever played an Orlesian dance with a tree before?"

Katja's eye twitched. He wouldn't…

"Once or twice. Let's see if my dancing is up to standards."

He would.

The giant Qunari wrapped his massive arms around the tree and started to shake it. Grunting and heaving in exertion.

"Where'd she go?!" Shouted Varric.

She'd disappeared.

The Iron Bull stopped his 'dance' with the tree to look with the rest of the stunned party. Ben-Hassareth eyes searching.

The Qunari felt cold feet plop themselves on his massive shoulders before the legs of those feet descended down to wrap around his thick neck. Grunting from the surprise weight on his shoulders. Jerking his horned head up to meet the mischievous red eyes of the owner of said legs.

"That was a fine dance Bull, but I must ask that it shouldn't always end with me riding you."

The group and said Qunari howled in laughter. Even when they were trudging through camp with eyes staring at the sight of the barefoot 'Herald' straddling the shoulders of a giant Qunari.

* * *

She was going to get her chance.

She was going to get back to the 'Elder One's' fuckery on her life.

This 'Elder One' didn't wait long on his revenge on her. Three days later after closing the Breach, he made his way through the mountains with the templars that were tainted with red lyrium. Slaves to his whim. Controlled by the middle-man named Samson, a former templar. According to Cullen. Before their assault, a young man with a high Veil-pull came to warn them. Calling himself Cole. Reporting that the majority of the bannerless army was over the mountain. The name of this 'Elder One' was Corypheus.

Tactics were made to use the three trebuchets to slow or stop their march.

Time to give Corypheus a bad fucking day.

Katja and her party defended the trebuchets from the red templar's assault on Haven. Being close to their red lyrium taint hurt her head, fighting through it.

It was going swell until an archdemon dragon spewed up some red lyrium fire balls at them. Her insides felt like they were being ripped apart from the high-concentration.

Katja didn't sign up for that. Neither did the Inquisition. They were in retreat mode back to the Chantry. Possibly the only building that can withstand a hit from the archdemon. Along the way, she and her party helped those that were trapped. Rushing them to the Chantry. The heavy doors closing behind them.

Within the span of a few minutes, that felt like hours to her, a heavy plan was formed. Absolutely hating it.

Chancellor Roderick would lead the Inquisition down a overgrown, less known path through the mountains. While, she, would use the remaining trebuchet that hasn't launched, to cause one last slide. That last slide would ultimately bury Haven along with the majority of the red templar army.

Cullen didn't like it, she could tell.

"If we are to have a chance, if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you." He told her.

Compression, tight as barbs, wound themselves in her conscience. Brushing it away, she was going to get back at the fuck that turned her life on its head. If she were to die, she'll die laughing at its face.

Volunteers from her party wanted to come along to ensure success. Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric.

Fighting their way to the remaining trebuchet; inching the turning sequence while fighting dozens of red templars. Finally, with that complete. She gained the attention of the archdemon dragon. Not wanting the rest of her party to get involved – this was her fight after all. She shouted, "Find the rest of them! I'll meet you when I can!" Winding up a whip made of tightly braided light, wrapping around them, she hurled them away in the general direction of the Chantry.

The dragon launched fire from its maw, scorching the earth, dodging just in time to avoid being crispy bacon.

Pulling herself up. Looking at the minor devastation, a figure, shrouded in darkness. Gaining form before her. Image memory overlapping.

Staring at the face of the fuckery of Thedas.

He was tall, over ten feet. Body skinny like a twig and twisty like the exoskeleton of an insect. The remnants of a dark purple robe covered his waist and legs. Arms long and thin with large claw like hands. His face gnawed like a knobby tree and half of it spouted red lyrium crystals.

Suddenly thinking that she needed a bigger shoe.

Said thoughts were interrupted when the dragon landed behind Katja. Roaring loudly and snapping it's jaws at her.

"Enough!" The Fucker said, pushing energy to the dragon. Said dragon stopped it's mock attack on her and went to its master.

"Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more." He said, deep and raspy. The hum of the lyrium, the metallic cling, ringing with the octaves.

Squinting her eyes at him, bold and fearless.

"I don't fear you, creature. State your business."

Sniding at her boldness, "Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!"

So this is the fuckery of her life and Thedas.

Corypheus pointed a condemning finger at her, "You will kneel."

Giving him her best stink-eye she said, "Fuck you. I kneel to no one."

"You resist? You will always resist. It matters not." Materializing an orb into his left hand, it's power glowing a bright red. "I am here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now."

The energy shot to her marked palm. Pain she hadn't felt since the beginning of this damned journey. Feeling as if this 'Anchor' was pulling her insides with it. Sure as hell not going to kneel because of a little pain in front of this ass. Hearing her daggers becoming unsheathed, she looked up to see them being pulled out by an invisible hand and being flung toward the trebuchet. The asshole's work.

A cursed thought entered her mind, _If it goes, my journey as this 'Herald' ends. I can go home. My path home is not closed._

But, an equal more pressing thought came too,_ If he has it, you will have no home anywhere .It all will burn like you once wanted._

Conflicted thoughts and emotions as the Anchor was being forcibly pulled from her body.

"It is your fault, 'Herald.' You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose."

Conflicted thoughts halted as a more pressing one came up, _What?! _I_ took it! _Stole_ it?! Is that why I can't fucking remember how I got this thing?_

Corypheus continued, "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

The pull, seemingly out of his anger, fired her nerves. Pushing herself through the pain. The Anchor mixing in both red and green.

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

Gritting her teeth, shouting, "Fuck you asshole‼"

That seemed to irk him as he stomped pompously to her, grabbing her marked hand roughly, pulling her up in the air by the arm.

His ugly-ass face right in her own. His lyrium smelling breath wafting into her nose.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in person_."

Really wishing he'd stop his monologue. But cursing her mark not deciding to stay with her or go to him.

"I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and _it was empty_!"

His face contorting to that of extreme anger as he hurled Katja to the trebuchet. The hard wood would leave a bruise there if she got out of there.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling."

Catching her breath, she eyed her most prized of her daggers – Cat's Tooth. If she were to die, she'll die with this dagger in her hands.

"So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – and god – it requires."

Just as he said that, a flare, distant between two mountain peaks popped in the dusky, smoky sky.

She knew.

"There's just one problem dumbass: Your pride!" Taking Cat's Tooth, and as hard as she could swung it on the mechanism, causing the trebuchet to fire.

The giant boulder flailed like it was a pebble in the air. Launching mightily into the mountain. The blow causing a delayed avalanche that caused the earth to shake like an empty stomach. Corypheus looked dumbfounded as the snow and part of the mountain came down. Taking the chance to run, to try and find shelter. Briefly looking that the dragon took his master away – flying off. Her momentary lapse caused her to stumble on weak footing – a wooden railing that covered a hole – it crushed under her weight sending her down into its dark, cold depths. Her body being struck multiple times during her decent, rolling down into the chasm. The strong taste of copper in her mouth. The breaking and fracturing of limbs.

Finally halting her fall, her eyes dim in the darkness as they closed. Visual sensors halting. Innocent and familiar voices in her head.

_"Big Cat, before I report to the Order, I have a gift for you. But, you'll have to promise not to tell mom and dad and to keep it safe."_

_"I love presents! I promise! I promise! What is it Little Great Bear?"_

_"… This!"_

_"Oh! A dagger! It's so pretty!"_

_"Yeah. I asked Waldan to forge it for you. Do you know how to use a dagger?"_

_An innocent chuckle, "Of course! You stick 'em with the pointy end!"_

_A ringing, hearty, baritone laughter, "That's right! What are you gonna call it? All the legendary blades have names."_

_"Yeah! Mine's gonna be legend! Um…"_

_"How about 'Mr. Pointy'?"_

_A loud childish laughter, "No silly! No one's gonna be scared of a blade named 'Mr. Pointy'! How 'bout… 'Cat's Tooth'!"_

_"'Cat's Tooth'?"_

"Because I'm 'Big Cat'," a small, raspy whisper answered, "and this is my 'Tooth'."

"And your Tooth is broken," the darkness replied back to her.

Slowly, sluggishly, she opened her eyes. A dark blue nothingness, frigid and icy, awaited her senses. A dim glow from her mark – the Anchor – casted a faint green luminescence on the icy walls. Face-down in the cold ground. The heavy taste of coppery blood in her mouth. Sharp, stabbing pain in her chest, arms and legs. Coughing up and spitting out the drying blood in her mouth. The action made her yelp in pain. Summoning up her mana to heal her – yet she couldn't. Feeling the Veil for that spark of a connection.

Request denied.

Mentally searching for anything to help. A hidden reserve within herself, a tendril, anything!

Nothing. Empty.

Fighting through her momentary panic. Keeping her animalistic urge and instinct that she was going to die at bay. Silently assessing herself. She was cold, shivering, unable to use her mana for some reason, her arms were sore but unbroken, probably a broken or bruised rib, head throbbing, and her left thigh hurt the most – the jarring pain of a broken limb on the thigh.

Gritting her teeth through the pain, sobbing, to turn herself over. Nearly screaming in the pain and exertion to do so. Red and yellow spots dotted her vision. Simply _breathing_ hurt. Calming herself. The adrenaline and will to survive on high alert.

Using her marked hand, the dim glow helping her to see the buckles of her side pack, uncoupling them, and digging into the pack. Searching for one of her potions that would help her. Screaming in frustration and pain was broken glass met her hand. Not one vile was left unbroken. Silently cursing the Maker, Andraste, and that cunt-hugger Corypheus.

"I'm not gonna beg!" Hoarsely whispering into the darkness. Teeth chattering at the cold.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, she could make out old wooden beams and discarded rags within her peripheral vision. Crawling on her back, using her good, but sore, leg to push her to the debris. Feeling as though it took her hours to make it. Once there, she put the smallest piece into her mouth, like a dog would a bone. With calm nervousness quickly heaving her torso up. Screaming and biting through the wooden gag. Tears dripping down her cheeks. Pulling herself together, using the glow from her mark to help her find some good wood and a decent rag to bind her broken thigh.

Finding what she needed, along with a staff-like branch, setting up her makeshift binding around the wounded thigh. Not the best of choices, but it was the best regardless. Now was the hard part. Setting the bone in place.

Clearing her head. Breathing through the wood gag. Placing her hands above her knee. Steeling herself before she lost her nerve, pushed the knee hard. Screaming. Yellow and red dots in her vision. Setting the bone back to its original position. Feeling the moving bone and muscle. Nearly passing out from the pain. Cold tears blotting the broken thigh.

Tying the fabric and two beams around the thigh. Tight enough to keep it from rebreaking. Satisfied from her work. Putting the rest of the discarded cloth on her shoulder.

Time to get up and moving.

Setting her make-shift crutch on her right side, holding it upright. Using only her uninjured leg and sore arms to push herself up. Biting her wooden gag through the pain. Spitting it out once she was on her feet, well foot. Using the glow from her marked hand to search around the cavern. The shiny glow of her dagger, Cat's Tooth, met her eye. The dagger was wedged into a beam; the blade stabbed into the wood. Sighing, limping her way to her dagger. Careful not to hurt her thigh or bruised ribs. Smiling lightly at the beloved dagger. The stuff of legends. Pulling it free from the beam, winching from the action.

Jerry-rigging herself so that she could bind the hilt of her dagger with the end of the branch using the discarded cloth. Making a makeshift spear. Hoping that it would hold up. Satisfied, she began her journey to find the rest of the Inquisition. But first she needed to get out of where ever she was.

Using the glow from her hand as a torch, limping along the cave. It was one way out from where she woke up. Slowly it became lighter the further she walked. Happy that her luck was holding up. Seeing the end of the tunnel and the howling of the wind and snow.

Momentary happiness cut short as three demons – out of nowhere – sprouted around her, nearly flanking her. Time slowed as they jumped on her.

"Get off of me‼" She screamed, out of instinct raising her left arm.

Blinding green light flooded her vision as the demons were being eaten from a small rift she created. Dissolving away into it. After a brief second it vanished along with the demons. Katja's vision nearly fading from the exertion. Quickly gaining her wits, holding her makeshift spear at the ready.

Waiting.

Nothing. All clear.

Pulling herself up once again. Feeling if her mana had returned to her. Total S.O.L.

Groaning angrily at her continued fuckery. Pulling her hood over her head, and with great trepidation, limped out of the tunnel and into the howling snow. Picking a direction and went with it. Not seeing very far from the thick snow drops.

The cold bit harshly into her clothes. Slowly seeping into her bones. After a while, she stopped feeling the pain in her thigh and her ribs. The constant howling from the wind was the only sound she could hear besides her muffled footsteps in the crunching snow. Settling into a rhythm. Crutch, howl, crunch, breath, howl. Rinse and repeat. Bones aching. Begging to for her to stop.

_If I stop, I'll die._

Her hunger and thirst forgotten. Uncertain of how long she had been walking or what time it was. Feeling as though she had just walked the same pass the last three times. Seeing false shapes in the grey-white haze of falling snow.

_Why do I want to go back?_ She asked herself. _If I stop, that will be it. No more of this Herald nonsense._

"Because sister, who else can heal the world?" Jerking her head to the familiar voice.

"Little Great Bear?" Now she is in the deep end.

But, there he was walking with her in the blistering cold snow storm. Unaffected by the elements. His serious blue eyes and short-cropped sandy blond hair, wearing his templar recruit armor. Just as she last saw him in her memories.

"C'mon Big Cat. You can't be that wimpy from a little cold."

Mentally shaking him away, "You're not real. I gotta be dyin'."

"No more than the rest of us." A group of groany voices added.

Her heart feeling icy. Twelve other templars forming on the other side of her. Their throats and chest marring them from stab wounds. Their faces disfigured. Walking funny from the heavy wound and bleeding from their groin area.

"Where is the Haunted One? The one that killed us in her rage?" Collectively laughing through the slice from their throats. The gash smiling with pointed teeth.

"Get away from me!" Running from them. Their hands pulling on her, bringing her back. Pushing forward. Swinging her makeshift spear in an arch at them.

They were gone.

Silence.

"Be a good Kitty."

Old, primal fear sinking in.

Smoothly, the old tenor voice creeped on her ear, "I want to be good to you."

"No!" Swinging back around the source of the voice. No one home. "You're dead!"

Chuckling laughter in the howling snow. The flurries forming the Evil One, the Betrayer. His Knight-Commander armor shining bright with splatters of blood. His slit throat smiling. Head nearly split and caved in from stab wounds.

"Your such a good, selfish cunt. I'll always live through you. Doing my work."

"Fuck off!" Slashing at the dead Knight-Commander. Bursting in a tuft of snow. Reforming in the shape of a black, shadow jackal.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He said with a thousand muffled voices. Ringing loudly in her mind.

Stabbing at the mass, dodging away to the side. Running away from the shadow jackal. The one mass turned to many, surrounding her. Following her in the howling snow storm.

"The world is burning like you always wanted. Burning just like you."

"No more. Not anymore!"

"Then why so selfish then? All you think of is returning home at the soonest possible time. Cursing everything hindering you. You can no longer walk there."

Slowing her pace.

"Death is your only return to that home. Would that be better for you?"

"No!" Hoarsely whispering out, slowing to a walk.

"Then stop your damn running and accept your fate! Pay the price!"

"I didn't know. I didn't _know_." Stopping all together, kneeling in the snow. Heavy tears in her eyes. Holding on to her makeshift spear like a lifeline. Weary from her exhausted efforts. The black shadow jackals laughing at her. Circling her like prey.

"You don't have to keep mourning me ya know."

A little girl with thick, disheveled white hair and glowing red eyes formed before her – no older than eight years old. Her small, thin, white under dress dirty and tearing. A trail of blood running down her thigh. Her small frail body bound in thick, dirty linen wrap – restraining her arms. Her small bare feet pattering in the snow, kneeling beside her.

Katja's tears renewed their efforts.

"Everything's better now. _I'm_ better! Why won't you let me go?"

Unable to speak to her phantom self.

The phantom child smiled, "I want to set you free, too. The world, it's people, isn't as bad as you think. You're being a bronto-head. But you keep holdin' me." Lifting as much as she could from the linen restraints.

"I couldn't protect you. Myself." Whispering her shame.

The phantom child giggled, "You were only eight. A little girl. Mom and dad left and you being scared, reached out to him. Taking advantage of you. The most innocent of the Maker's creation.

"Let _him_ go to. Do you honestly want _that man_ in your heart as well?"

Sighing, "No."

"Okay! See it's not so hard. What about the Inquisition? Your new home?"

Shirking at the mention. "I want to return –"

"No! No." The phantom becoming annoyed, "Remember Havardr's words? See, can't deny that either."

Wanting to protest but the phantom child-self stopped her, "Do you honestly think that a spirit as old as him would have bonded so tight with a nobody mage if he didn't know your fate? Teaching, guiding, healing you if not for this moment? This is _you_! Who you were always meant to be. Your heart years and burns for this! Stop being so afraid!"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Then what is it then?"

She couldn't answer.

"The world cries and begs your name, self. Like you once did. A frightened child in a dark room, calling for help. Pleas on deaf ears. Broken and violated. Needing a defender – a guide to the way. Healing the broken self. You see it, but you don't defend the world, the child, from the violator. You would let him rape the world!"

Heavy tears streaming down her face.

"Look back Katja. It happened. It was always meant to happen. This is how it was _always_ meant to be. Remember your choices: Destroy or heal. What will you do with your choices? Decide or forever wonder the howling snow in the in-between. Keep yourself from being free."

Compression welling in her chest.

Destruction would mean she dies right now. The alternate she witnessed a glorying testimony to her absence – her death.

If she lived, she would heal the world. Living with a price on her. An unaccustomed price. Stopping her alter-self from raping and burning the world.

The way is shut behind her. Never to return.

Everything has a price. Everything changes.

She wanted to live. Letting what she once was go. Standing up.

Her phantom child-self's linen restraints burned away like paper. Smiling, hopeful, happy.

"Give Cullen a kiss for me!" Joyfully laughing out as she skipped away in the hazy falling snow. Arms raised in jubilation.

The shadow jackals that were circling her vanished as well into the snow. Leaving her with cold exhaustion in her frozen steps.

In the distance, very faintly, a dark outline took shape. Golden tuffs on the head part. Red and black fur on the shoulders.

Commander?

He was walking away from her.

"Wait!" She mouthed without a sound. Following his movement.

Feeling a Veil-pull in his direction. It must be him! Holding on to the sensation. His shape got lost in the snow, but she could still feel it.

What felt like hours later, she found an abandoned fire pit. The embers were recent.

Still feeling the Commander's Veil-pull, just a nudge stronger. Heading in that direction. Joy singing into her exhausted limbs. So close. So tired.

Her legs wanted to give out. The burning in her thigh and ribs returning. Darkness in her eyes. Fighting through the exhaustion. Body screaming to stop. Rest.

_No. Not when I'm so close._ She mentally told her body. Fighting its will. _But I'm so tired._

A slow eternity in the cold. The snow abating.

Echoes of voices clanged in her mind faintly. _Maybe, just a little nap._

Eyes closing. The sensation of falling. Stopping. Face clashing on cool metal and warm, tickling fur. Being wrapped around twin, _warm_, strong vices. The strong smell of dried thyme. Loving the warmth and smell.

_Strong hearty laughter in the darkness, "Ya know what Big Cat. I have a feeling that when you meet a man when you grow up is gonna have his hands full with you."_

_"Huh? Why's that?"_

_"It's just a feeling. You're not exactly like other noble girls."_

_"Bah! They're just a bunch of sissies! If I ever meet a man when I grow up, he'll like me for me! We'll be partners against the evil! We'll go down in history!"_

_"In other words; be super-awesome like you?"_

_"Oh yeah!"_

_"Any man who will do that with you, will be a fine man indeed. Now, quickly! Hide Cat's Tooth before mom and dad find it!"_

* * *

**[A.N.]** Round of applause for Faceball-92 and Lupi-wolf for the fav/follows! Thanks again Rae for the review, but I'm sorry to disappoint you in this one. However, I promise, the way I got it set up for their 'first kiss' is totally epic. At least it is for me. And technically they have kissed, just not in this 'timeline'.

Also, this chapter is brought to you by Akira Yamaoka.

More self made fanart!

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/Small-Comforts-512337202


	11. Fire in the Sky

Chapter 10: Fire in the Sky

Gazing longingly into the bleak cold dark. Eyes open for any signs of life. The rest of the circle parted, undecided after a heated argument of what to do. The Commander cursing himself. It was he who lit the flare. Ultimately consenting to burying Haven. Burying Katja with it. He couldn't let her go though. Not believing that she had perished. As the hours went by and the further away from Haven they got the more the grimness sunk in.

Feeling as though he was the only one keeping that hope.

Trying to feel any lingering tendril of her Veil. Feeling as though he shouldn't have stopped taking lyrium so soon.

_There should have been another way! I should be dead with her in Haven. Instead of running around like a headless chicken._

Watching Cole pace back and forth. Keeping an eye on him. His abnormality having him on alert. But, strangely, no more than Katja's did.

He stopped his pacing just as the Commander felt a faint pull from the snow.

"No. Not when I'm so close. But I'm so tired." Cole said. Eyes widening. "It's her!"

The Commander leaping from his spot, "Where?!" A tiny, faint pull from the south, but no clearer.

Running to the pull. Cole beside him. Eyes on them as they continued their run into the cold snow. Hearing more footsteps behind him. Following him and Cole.

"Cold. Pain. Sleep. Eyes dark. Body screaming to stop."

He ran faster. The pull becoming stronger. Drifting in and out. A small greenish glow illuminated.

"It's her!" Cullen shouted. Running ever faster, taking the lead. Not letting the pull go. Her outline becoming more defined. Her white hair flailing from the wind. Body hunched over, clutching a makeshift spear with her dagger on the tip. Limping the in snow.

"Thank the Maker!"

"Maybe, just a little nap. Eyes closing."

Letting go of the spear. Falling. Almost leaping to catch her before her fall into the snow. Her face crashing into his chest plate and fur pauldrons. Holding her as tight as he could. Picking her up like a bride.

She was so _cold_!

Panic seized the Commander. She was dying. Pale and lifeless. Lips blue, dark-grey rings around her eyes. Her head caked in dried blood. A jerry-rigged splint on her left thigh. Fingers a light blue. Unknowing what other injuries she sustained. Teeth chattering heavily.

Two clear thoughts rung in his head from the chatter of the group. _Healer. Now._

Running back the way he came. The rest of the group behind him. Within the vicinity of the camp he shouted, "Clear a tent!" A flurry of commotion as a tent was cleared. The three mages within her party and an herbalist gathered.

Gingerly setting her within the empty cot. Quickly the mages and herbalist undressed her, assessing her wounds. Solas pushing him outside. He wanted to protest. He wanted to _help_. To have her see his face when she woke up.

"Please Commander let us help her. You are no healer."

With that he was pushed out. The tent flap closing.

Going back to the horrid task of waiting. The unknown. The uncertainty.

It was clearly felt when the rest of the leaders gathered some time later. Assembled within their meeting tent. A thin, crumbled hope of her pulling through.

"She will. She's made it this far." He said exasperatingly. Tired of the same run around. Unable to accept the alternative.

"You saw her just as I have when we found her." Cassandra said. "It doesn't bode well for her even with the healer's working feverishly to mend her."

"She will pull through. It's too soon to say." Adamantly voicing it.

"Even if she does pull through, then what?" Asked Josephine.

On and on it went. And it ended just as has been before. With more grated frustrations and uncertainty. _Nothing_ decided.

When he opened the tent flap he saw the whole camp surrounded Trevelyan's medical tent. Whispering, praying. Huddled together. Feeling the small pulls from the mages and templars. Lending their strength like they did at the Breach. The sight rendered the party and himself speechless. No one protested the gathering. Leaving them be. Everyone needed it after their huddled defeat at Haven. Morale was low enough as it was.

It was several hours before the group heard any news of her condition. The Commander's nerves frayed for waiting for so long. The leaders and Trevelyan's companions en massing within their meeting tent.

One of the herbalists and Mother Giselle staying within Trevelyan's tent to keep watch.

It was Cassandra who broke the ice, "How is she?" Her voice thin and clearly exhausted.

Solas sighed, "If we were any later in finding her, she would have perished. She is very weak from her journey from the mountains."

"That girl is tougher to kill than a high dragon." Remarked Dorian. "If any one of us went through what she did to get here, we wouldn't have made it."

"For the moment she is stable. We've also managed to heal her wounds." Added Vivienne. "We are unsure as to why she, being a mage, didn't heal herself, or at the least cast small fire spells to keep her warm."

"That is until we found a binding spell on her, similar in construction to a templar casting a Holy Smite or Silence. It took all three of us along with the unexpected aid of the resident mages and templars to remove it." Explained Solas.

The group nodded. Cullen asked, "Would it be safe to assume that this Elder One, Corypheus, casted it on her?"

"Yes it would. However, until she regains her strength to report what happened we can only speculate."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she stays out for a while." Remarked Dorian, tiredly. "We'd best get comfortable, despite where we are."

That's how that was left. Even the rambunctiousness of Varric's witty remarks, Bull's crassness, and Sera's crazy mutters were silent.

The Commander feeling growing protective pains in his chest at the whole situation. It was just one more attempt of fate taking from him. This time, she had come back. He wasn't going to let another repeat. He wouldn't let it happen again. Haven, won't happen again.

_What a fool I am. Falling for the hero._

Trying to push the infatuation away. Unable to; continually growing stronger. Internally sighing at himself. What was with him and falling for a strong leader like Trevelyan?

After some time, he paid a brief visit to Trevelyan's tent. Mother Giselle keeping watch over her.

He could barely make her out under all the wool and fur blankets. Tuffs of silver-white hair rippling out in soft waves. She had regained her tan coloring with a faint dusking of pink on her cheeks and nose-tip. Faint dark circles under her sleeping eyes; testament of her exhaustion. Full lips slightly chapped form the cold and the color of a dragonthorn berry. Her breathing easy and even.

"How is she?" Asking quietly to Mother Giselle.

"She sleeps soundly Commander. I pray that Andraste continues to give her an easy rest." She replied just as quietly.

"And… I as well." Forcing his legs to move out of the tent. Bundling his feelings within his chest.

The next morning came the routine of the depressing, argument within the meeting tent. The same run-a-round. The Commander was in no mood for the same charade. The pulses of his withdrawal coming to the forefront – this head throbbed from his migraine and his muscles pulsated painfully. Snapping and barking at the other commanders.

They heard a small commotion outside but they ignored it.

A sudden jerking of the tent flap opening. The sunlight coming through, casting an ambianic silhouette of the person interrupting – along with a stabbing pain to his head. Though he was glad for the respite of their argument. The brief second turned to shock as the Herald, Katja, came through. Wrapping herself in one of the thick fur blankets, her breeches, and leather boots. Her spider silk hair in disarray. Her oval face calm if melancholic. Lastly, her deep, ruby-red eyes were clear, detecting the faintest hint of drowsiness from sleep.

Mother Giselle behind her. Eyes wide like a mother finding her child harmed.

"Please Herald, return to your tent," Mother Giselle beseeched, "you need your rest. Let the commanders continue their discussion."

Katja's face sported a small grin, "It seems to me," her voice small and raspy from disuse, "that they were arguing than discussing anything. It's alright Mother Giselle, I'll only be a short while. I'll meet you at my tent."

"But –"

Katja shook her head, "I'm sure one of the commanders would escort me back if I'm too weak to continue. Um, thank you for watching me."

"It's alright Mother Giselle," Cassandra spoke up then, breaking the groups surprise reverie, "we'll watch her."

The Mother furrowed her brows in sad disapproval, but said no more as she left them.

Cullen felt the tugs of relief flood into his bones. His throat tightened and constricted. Despite her being weary, she appeared to be in good health. The mage's healing abilities did their work. Katja no longer limped from her injury to her thigh and the wound on her head was completely mended. He had to hold himself back from taking the paces that separated them and close it – enveloping her in an embrace. Thinking better of it.

Instead he said, gratefully, "It is good to see that you mended well. Though you should still be in bed."

She cocked a grin at him, the action fluttered in his chest. "It's hard to sleep when we are in a dire circumstance." Then, her face turned melancholic but serious, "Why… has there not been a decision on where to go yet?"

"Because Herald we –" Leliana started irefully, but sighing, calming herself, "were unsure of where to start. Some of our injured need to rest, like yourself."

Josephine nodded, "The rest are in a state of shock over Haven. Our supplies are low – including food and medicine. With that discursion is high. We have to stick together." The same desperate look on her face that she had since Haven.

"Shelter is needed and fast. It will be tough to convince them to continue if we have no solid plan on that front. We highly doubt than we could even convince a meager supporter of ours to shelter several hundred people along with the possibility of being attacked by this Corypheus and his archdemon." Cullen added. Sighing at the prospect ahead of them.

"Thus, are continued arguing run-a-bout." Cassandra finalized.

Katja furrowed her brows in consideration. Stepping forward, closer to the map of Thedas sprawled haphazardly on top of the collection of chairs and low tables. Her eyes searching, wanting to unlock secrets. Analyzing.

The Commander noticed the small fog of her breath from her proximity. With the faint smell of pine needles and dew grass.

"We need to keep going northward. We cannot stay."

Fire blazed in the Commander's mind at her suggestion. So did the rest of the commanders. All at once shouting questions or disapproval.

Shaking her head annoyingly, "Please, you've all have done enough of that for a day." She sighed, and from her small movement under the fur blanket – clasped her hands. The action steeling the Commander that what she was about to say was important, but nervous of how to say it. Suddenly feeling like a child being reprimanded for being unreasonable.

The rest of the commanders were quiet, waiting for what she needed to say.

Her face suddenly shifted to the Commander's perceiving bronze eyes. The calm melancholy was replaced by a hard steel, the very air around her had the Commander rapt at attention.

"There is… nothing for us here. If we do not move, we will be worse off for it. We're _vulnerable_." She quietly said.

"Why north?" Leliana asked quietly.

"There is… a place for us there. I've seen it, though briefly."

Josephine's face lit up, "That's wonderful news. Do you know the way?"

She paused. "Not exactly. I'll have to scout ahead for us."

That didn't sit well with him or anyone.

"No you won't!" The Commander vehemently opposed. "You just got up from having scant rest. Almost dying from your wounds and hypothermia. Now you want to scout out a place you claim exists to Maker-knows-where? Absolutely not!"

Trevelyan scowled, "If we do not go we will _all_ be dead." Her tone was a verbal slap not only to the Commander but to the others. "All this sitting around bickering serves _nothing_ but to prolong the death of everyone.

"I know the general direction of where to go, _none_ of the scouts do. I'm fully healed and as rested as I'll ever be until we find shelter. Which is more than I can say for some who fought just as hard at Haven. All I need at this point is food in my belly and water to drink. If you four are so concerned, I'll ask Solas to scout with me in case I need help. Though I doubt it, since I can use my mana now." Sighing heavily, annoyed at them, "That's better than what you four knuckle-heads were able to come up with."

That… was a big, heavy mental slap. The Commander saw that the others were just as affected, to their own extent, of her words. Harsh, bitter truths. Feeling rather foolish and like a child being scolded by the parents. She was right. The main priority should have been finding shelter instead of the wasted effort of arguing.

_I should have known better. Even in my age and experience, I can still be a dullard._

After a moment, Cassandra broke the silence, "Alright. But, we do not take this lightly."

They all nodded. Consenting to the idea Katja presented to them. Having little other choice.

"I know." Her melancholy returning.

"Some will probably perish on the march."

She sighed and softly said, "I know."

Cullen wanted to go over to her and comfort her. His little internal, nervous shyness keeping him still. The more he spent with her, the more of her strength – her fortitude – beamed. Katja looked so small to hold such inner strength. Knowing the risk, making the decision – despite the grim reality – to follow through. Falling a little more into his infatuation.

_I will watch. I will follow. Even if you never know how much I wish to hold you._

After the meeting, the withdrawal didn't feel so daunting to the Commander. Though he still hated the brightness from the snow. The camp packing after being given the orders of the morrow's march. The beginning their troublesome journey into the unknown along the Frostbacks.

Toward the evening, a whim came into his head. He couldn't necessarily say why the whim came to him, but he rather liked the idea. Rather poetic and ironic. Finding what he was looking for in the snow, her dagger, still attached in a make-shift spear to the knobby staff-like branch. Returning to the camp, he made his way to his small tent, fetching a cloth and oil and a whetstone. Cleaning the dagger and removing it from the branch.

Once completed, he made his way to her tent. She wasn't in there. Momentarily panicking. Asking and searching the camp for her where-a-bouts. His search reached the edge of camp where he spotted her and Solas looking out a ravine. Well out of ear-shot of the camp.

After a while, she made her way back to the camp.

She had, since her interruption in the meeting tent, dressed back into her usual leathers and armor. The thick, fur blanket forgotten. Her blue head-band keeping her unruly spider-silk hair out of her face – her hair in a loose braid. Looking a little more of herself.

"Where you waiting for me Commander?" She asked.

Feeling a little more nervous than he should be. "I – uh, in a manner of speaking. I was wondering if you would like something to eat."

Lame!

She cocked her brows at him. "It isn't time for the rations to be distributed Commander."

Feeling heat rise to his cheeks. How could he have forgotten!

"Oh… that's right. Sorry."

Katja clasped her hands and chuckled softly. "Is there something else?"

Trying to pull up some dignity when he said, "Yes. But, I would like to show you at your tent. If you have the time."

_That… didn't sound right._

"Okay. That's fine."

The Commander was relieved that his nervousness was not detected by her.

Making their way to her tent the Commander was aware of the admiring stares of those that they passed. All of which fisted their chests in respect. They were aware of him beside her, but their focus was on Trevelyan.

_She has their hearts and minds._ He absently noted.

He noted her nervous demeanor – clasping hands and shifting eyes. It was probably Cullen's imagination, but it seemed she drifted a little closer to his person. The attention always seemed to make her nervous. Though he Commander can relate.

Once at her tent, she addressed him, "Alright Commander, what is it that you needed to show me?"

Steeling himself, he reached into a hidden clasp within his cloak and pulled out her dagger. Presenting the hilt to her. Her eyes widened from surprise.

Throat turning dry, taking a moment to clear it. "I thought you would like to have it returned."

The cold exterior melted in an instant on her face. Softening. Katja smiled brightly and a twinkle within her ruby eyes that looked like gems. Very gently, she reached out with her right hand to the hilt – like she was afraid of breaking it. Hands wrapping around it with familiar ease. Hugging the dagger close to her like a mother would their babe. Having an air of calm happiness. Feeling the electricity when her hand touched his. Sending shivers across his spine and down to his toes. Up again to nestle comfortably in his groin. Swallowing hard to will his growing arousal away. A blush threatening to form.

She looked at him with the same expression of calm happiness. The affect pulled and tightened in the Commander's chest. Wrapping and nestling comfortably within his psyche. Giving him warm pride that he had made her happy within this dismal time.

"Thank you." It was almost a whisper. Full of released emotion. The most emotion that he had ever seen from her.

"It… it was nothing Trevelyan." His throat, once again, tightening.

"No. It was something, and I thank you for it. You don't know how much this means to me."

Cullen was feeling mighty uncomfortable. Unaccustomed to the grey blurs of ridged decorum and civil custom. Although it could be said that retrieving her dagger was within that grey blur. Wanting nothing more than to hold her – comfort her. Holding the hilt of his sword with his left hand and rubbing his neck with the other in nervousness.

Clearing his throat for the millionth time, he said, "I am… glad that, ah, I returned it before we set out in the morn then."

"Me too. Speaking of retrievals. How is your sword?"

Grateful that it was heading to neutral territory for the Commander, "It is well. Thank you. It remains undamaged."

She smiled softly, "That's good then. I never asked the name of your sword. What do you call it?"

"Sigurd." The Commander grinned at his choice.

"Sigurd? Umm…" She furrowed her brows in concentration, then released in realization. "It derives from old Ferelden 'Siguror'. Of which means 'victory' and 'guardian'. It's a good name."

The Commander felt a returning blush creeping up his neck. "Er, yes, I suppose your right. I didn't realize you speak old Ferelden."

"I don't. It's just something I remembered from a Fade-trip I had once."

"Oh." The Commander felt rather foolish. "What of your blade? What do you call it?"

It was then Katja's face turned melancholic once again. Holding the dagger tighter to her.

"It's, ah, not as noble sounding as 'Sigurd'. It's rather silly actually."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow, "Come now. I told you mine Trevelyan."

She sighed lightly before answering. "Cat's Tooth."

"'Cat's Tooth'?" It… did sound rather silly. Something a child would come up with for a toy.

"Because I'm 'Big Cat' and this is my 'Tooth'." The Commander heard it, but it was intended as a whisper.

Katja looked so sad. It was like the Commander unlocked a memory within her. Or, at the least, glimpsed at a memory she held.

It was then the Commander realized something. The way she held the sword and how small she seemed. It looked like a child clutching a stuffed bear when they are afraid of the dark.

Cullen felt guilty. It must have been a sad memory that he triggered from her.

_This conversation sounded much better in my head._

"I'm sorry. If this is painful –"

Her ruby red eyes widened from surprise as she spurted out, "No! It's alright Commander. It was one of those memories that is happy but it makes you sad at the same time. Does that make any sense?"

Internally sighing, a little relieved, "Yes. I understand Trevelyan. Well, ah, best of luck tomorrow. And… be careful."

Her throat visibly tightened. "You too Commander."

Katja made her way to him, her steps quiet and calculated. Very much within his space. Confused as to why she was so close until she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. In a state of shock over the sudden action. Just as quickly as she did so, she retreated. Her head down. Walking away stiffly into the throng of the camp.

Leaving the shy Commander sporting a furious blush across his cheeks.

The next morning their expedition started later than they all wanted. Though he thanked the Maker that the sky was clear. The loud sounds of the bronto herding equipment and the neighing of the horses. Katja in the lead with Solas beside her. He could see her a quarter of a mile out, coming toward them on her horse. A gift from the Horse Master. Giving them directions on where it was safe for the camp to head towards. Before galloping back out to continue her scouting.

It was a solid three day march across the Frostbacks. The ravines, ice, snow and treacherous terrain slowed them. Not once did Katja complain, nor did the whispers from the camp. Not even when some of the most sick and injured succumbed to their afflictions and perished. By the end of the day it was a solemn affair with the ceremonies. With lack of wood, the only option was to bury them. She was present at each one. Saying a few comforting words to the departed.

On the second day Cassandra and the other commanders came to him with a consensus. They wanted her as the Inquisitor. Full heartily agreeing.

"Once we arrive at this place she speaks of, we intend on informing her. For now, let us keep it a surprise."

Agreeing to Cassandra's request.

_She has their hearts and minds. They will follow her even more now that she will be Inquisitor._

Toward mid-afternoon on the third day she came back to camp with Solas on a full gallop. Unabashed happiness on her face.

"We found it!"

A collective sigh went through the whole camp as news spread that the end of the journey was near. The pace was soon picked up as the end drew to a close. When the location came into place, it took his breath away. The scale of the castle was massive. Even from a distance. It could easily hold their meager numbers and more. As the camp came closer a collective awe reverberated throughout.

It took until the early evening to reach the gates. The camp stopping within the courtyard, but soon migrated to within the hold itself. The main hall easily holding the people of the camp. Grateful for shelter. Their faces weary but glad for a place of shelter and safety. Using the broken furniture to use as kindling for the several hearth fires lining the main hall's walls. Within a span of a few hours, the camp settled into their bedrolls and slept within the hall.

The next morning the Commander rallied the camp within the courtyard, whispers of a ceremony tingling the camp's ears. Waiting on top the first tier of the stair case for the main attraction to come out. Leliana was with him, holding a regalia sword. One that symbolizes power rather than for fighting. Josephine as well – looking very happy and prim despite what had happened the last few days.

Speaking of which, Katja came out with Cassandra, leading her out of the main hall.

"The Inquisition requires a leader: The one who has _already_ been leading it." Cassandra said as she lead her to them.

Leliana presented the regalia sword to her.

The Commander stood by watching her reaction. Hoping that she would accept. Her face surprisingly neutral to the burden they have chosen for her to have. She then looked out the quiet crowd that was rallied beneath the steps.

"It… it's unanimous? You all would trust me to do this?" Her voice quiet.

"I will not say that there will be those who would doubt the decision. But times are changing. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: That must be yours to decide."

Her face turning to steel as she took the regalia sword. "Corypheus must be stopped. No one will live in peace until he is defeated. He made that clear."

They all turned to face the crowd.

Cassandra's voice shouting outward, "Have our people been told?"

Josephine shouted with her, "Yes they have. And soon the world."

"Will they follow Commander?"

"Inquisition? Will you follow?"

"AYE‼" Their voices shouting, echoing loudly within the castle walls. Upraising their hands.

"Will you fight?"

"AYE‼"

"Will you triumph?"

"AYE‼"

"Your leader! Your Herald! Your _Inquisitor_!"

"AYE‼ _AYE_‼ _AYE_‼"

* * *

So many things to do. Barracks to assign. Weapon inventory. Patrols to be set up. Not to mention clearing the rubble. He found a suitable place for his quarters but was unable to have it functional until the second week of their arrival.

Skyhold was a mess to the Commander's eyes.

For the short time, the only living space was the main hall. The only people that didn't dine or sleep there were the sick and injured. Those were in the middle yard receiving treatment.

It was nothing short of business for those days – which turned to weeks.

He hardly had time to visit the newly made Inquisitor. She was always running to and fro. Managing construction, seeing to the injured, other duties. He only interacted with her during their morning meetings in the war room.

She, at his arms length observation, seemed to be mending well. Her acceptance of Inquisitor had a tremendous morale booster to the troops and other refugees. Making them work and bolster with enthusiasm. Many joined the Inquisition during that time. Their numbers swelled heavily. Pilgrims with them as well.

He was privy to the rumors around her since her seeming death at Haven.

It was those same rumors that gave the residents and soldiers alike awed reverence. Even more so than before.

That she was resurrected. The Maker brought her back from the dead.

The Inquisitor – Katja – gave a report on her survival to the Inner Circle, but it didn't seemed to be heard from the masses.

It was still awe inspiring of her survival, even if the thought of the Maker resurrecting her was more pleasing to the ears and their beliefs. It gave the Commander renewed respect for her. Her resilience was astounding. He doubted that at the same circumstance he would do the same.

Along with the fact that she faced a darkspawn, archdemon, whatever that was and lived.

And the truth about her mark, the Anchor.

Maker's Breath. Thinking about it had him go through some sleepless nights.

He wouldn't let what happened at Haven reoccur at Skyhold.

"It's just… I am glad that you and so many made it out." She said to him the day after her inauguration.

He saw her advert her ruby eyes and folded her arms. Embarrassment or uncertainty maybe? Cullen felt that protective love well in his chest. He clasped her hand with both of his in reassurance, and vowed to her that Haven will not have a repeat. His shyness forgotten. A little more relaxed around her and his feelings. She widened her hands in surprise at his touch… perhaps?

Speaking of sleepless nights.

He was currently writing reports and orders for the morning, when a small pain seizure wracked his body. He gripped the hilt of his sword. He didn't unsheathe it, just held it tightly. Willing himself into steel – fighting through the pain. Little flecks of blue in his vision – calling out to him. Little whispers of voices best left forgotten. Pulling, tempting him. He wanted it. More than air. He willed it away.

It wouldn't abate. Calling. Calling. Pleading. Teasing. Demanding. Clawing.

He sprung from his makeshift desk and leaving his quarters. Hoping that he wouldn't stumble into anyone to his private turmoil.

Over and over he chanted, mouthing the words, "Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder…"

He chanted and he walked around the battlements of Skyhold.

Not much aware of his surroundings. He was aware of his movements – walking, going up stairs, opening doors – the cold mountain air. The cold.

The pain started to recede back into his normal hum in his nerves. His normal tolerance.

He opened the final door into a tower.

A small werelight greeted him. It shivered and lapped lazily in its space. It ghosted on a semi-rotten table and the owner of the werelight was drinking sluggishly on a similar semi-rotten chair. The smell of the alcohol was strong in the small space.

"Inquisitor." He said astounded to find her here late at night – alone, drinking, in the dark.

Her red eyes sluggishly looked at him. Their usual fire dim. Her white hair lank and lifeless despite the glow it emitted from the solitary light.

He felt a pull in his chest, but ignored it.

Cullen remembered one other time he had seen her like this. Though she wasn't as inebriated.

She breathed out heavily – warm fog came out. Chuckling without amusement, "You seem to take mirth in finding me Commander."

She was defiantly drunk from her slurry speech, he came to her side and asked, "Why are you out here drinking? What's put you in this state?"

The Inquisitor laughed bitterly. "The Commander wishes to _know_? Mine state? There is a lot on mine state good Ser!" She rocked back lightly, finding it amusing at his question.

The Commander came closer to her. The hum from his pain seizure tightened his muscles, but he had more pressing concerns with the Inquisitor's well being. Having a long drinking spell in the cold was not the best for one's health.

"Ya wanna know a secret super-ex-templar Commander Cullen?" Her eyes sudden solemn. "I've never told anyone this but …" she took a swig of her liquor, "when all this shit started. I was happy to play in the background. It wasn't when I came to the war room that you said that 'everyone will be looking at me' that I realized my previous life was over. Hell I fought it." Another generous swig, "in that private moment, I wanted it all go get buried. Metaphorically speakin'. To go back to my life before. That all of it was a big joking _dream_!

"Guess what happened!? It got buried _literally_. Not only that but a lot of people _died_. Soldiers you put in some sweat to _train_, refugees we _sheltered_, locals who _harbored_ us." Another hardy helping of liquor.

"When Corypheus came and attempted to take the anchor away. I was mentally willing it along! 'Go take the fuckin' thing back!' but no!," she waved her hand lazily in the air while simultaneously taking a drink, "still here!"

Cullen was feeling very uncomfortable at hearing this from her, "Inquisitor –"

"No! You – " she kicked his shin, "you gonna shut it and listen. Yer Inquisitor-ness demands it of you. Since you fucks can't call me by name." Another swig. "A-anyway. When I almost died. I was almost relieved. I would wake up and go back – end of dream. Although chopping that Corephyus's pisser off would have done wonders for me.

"I thought I was goin' to. The little jackals of my brain were comin' at me. I could see them through the snow and cold. Makin' me remember shit that needed to stay forgotten. Of how much of a piece of shit I really am. Then, little me came. An _old_ me. The child in me that I locked up, wanting to protect. She came when I wanted to die. Asking to be let go – to set her free. That if I didn't accept the _me_ now, that I would let Corypheus rape the world. Let him burn the world.

"I couldn't go back to being one. I was so focused on being _one_. I couldn't _see_! I _multiplied_ Cullen! Before my eyes! I am _many_ now! All those soldiers, refugees, locals – little bits of _me_ were dead! Havardr told me! I knew what he meant, but I fought it!" Tears came down her cheeks, but she swallowed the sorrow and continued.

"He knew my fate of this world. What I was always meant to be. No elder spirit would bond so closely to a nobody. No. Not a spirit as old as he. Guiding, teaching, healing me. I'm so scared though. If I fail… I saw what it would mean in the alternate.

"I can't let it happen. I accept my fate, even though I curse it. And you guys… accept me so quick. First, as your Herald, then, Inquisitor. All I do is ask and you all obey. I ask you to raise your sword Cullen and when you unsheathed it you raised an army. No questions. It's a little… frightening. In a weird way your my right hand. _One_ of my multipliers. You _multiplied_ me Cullen! You, Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra."

Katja took a long gulp before Cullen could grab the offending bottle. "I think, you've had enough." She didn't protest when the bottle was out of her hand.

She gazed a hole into the ground where the bottle was in her hand. Looking at Cullen with bleary red eyes. Reaching out, holding his hand. "He-Who-Walks-Beside."

The Commander cocked a brow at her. "The what?"

"That's what he called you. I'm starting to understand why."

She sat back lazily in her chair and spread her legs suggestively.

Cullen nearly had a heart attack.

"In-inquisitor! I think it's time you slept this off. You're not rational."

She let out a bellowing laugh, "Forever you will be She-Who-Walks-Alone."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Holy Maker! Thank you bellabri287, moltenash, rocketsocks01, Rhistel Gold, Nyxxos, darius . hunter . 35, ShadowHeart251, dude41, CaptainFluggers, and LKat90 for the favs/follows‼ Huge smiles!

This chapter was a pain to write. It didn't help that I have real world issues to deal with. :(


	12. Fever

Chapter 11: Fever

Total embarrassment.

That's her most reasonable statement to herself. All she wanted was to wallow a little bit in a private tower that had little foot traffic. To mourn a little. To release some pent up emotions within a little wine. And _he_ just had to come in and see it. Katja didn't remember everything that she said, but what she did…

_Fuck_.

Gathering some courage, she made her way, reluctantly, to his office – apologizing for her behavior. Her un-leaderly-ness.

Then, he just… brushed it off. Saying, "Well, given all that's happened, it's understandable that you needed some release. Though, try not to have that release in the form of a bottle."

Really? Just like that?

That same morning during their war meeting, the talks of adverting Empress Celene's impending assassination began. The political stance within Orlais in dire straits. A civil war between the Empress and Grand Duke Gaspard for the throne. More than likely Corypheus would be using this chaos as a means to 'restore' Tevinter. Any attempts of reaching the Empress to warn her were met with deaf ears and out-maneuvers. Josephine was trying to secure a place with the peace talks, if they ever came to that point. However, these peace talks were far off, neither side of the civil war wanting to convene. And that bit was left as it was.

Until then, scouts were sent off to the Exalted Plains. The small hope that they could quell the fighting enough to inspire peace between the civil war. Along with the fact that red templars have been spotted in the area. Meeting adjourned.

Sitting in contemplation within her quarters in Skyhold.

Having some time to process and breathe. She really needed it. The last few weeks – first Redcliffe, the disaster at Haven, trekking through the wilderness with hundreds of people following her, and the business of leading the Skyhold operations. Katja needed time to process it. _Without_ the aid of a bottle. Maybe Dorian was rubbing too much on her.

Coming to terms with her new niche in the world. She-Who-Walks-Alone, indeed.

Glad for the day to herself. Going to the Undercroft to craft a new dagger that she lost at Haven. Keeping a safe eye on Cat's Tooth. The rhythmic clanging allowing her to process her thoughts.

Often thinking back to the Commander. Twice he saved her life and twice he made his feelings known. At the least his inner desire for her. She would be a total lark not to admit that she had a desire for him as well. However, she was uncertain. Once again. It wasn't the carnal desire that she was uncertain with. She was familiar with that. Although, one-time tumbles and trysts with farmer's sons and daughters wouldn't go along with her underlining feelings.

They were romantic in nature.

_What the fuck do I know of romance?_

Katja defiantly desired his body. She didn't object throwing off his armor and rutting him until he couldn't see straight. Or him coming on to her leaving her unable to stand. His hot, seed coating her core and the look of ecstasy on his face. Muscles tightening hard at the force of the orgasm. The mental image caused her to shiver, her wet, heat was evident.

Those were the _only_ romantic notions that she was aware of.

Stray thoughts going back to the alternate future when Cullen kissed her came to her mind. Heat pooling within her body at the thought. She _really_ liked that. None of her past 'lovers' ever kissed her like that. They were neither pleasant nor unpleasant – it was just kissing.

_Perhaps I need some research on romance?_

The only place that would be 'romantic' in Skyhold would be the tavern, Herald's Rest, at night. One of the first few places that was given full construction rights since their arrival. Partly due to Bull's and Sera's combined force of negotiations. She would notice couples there after-hours on these events called 'dates'. Logically concluding that it was a normal activity for couples who were romantically involved. A process called 'courting'.

Deciding that it would be a start on her journey of 'romance' and 'courtship', she garbed herself plainly and waited for night to arrive. Using her roguish skills, she stealthily made her way from her quarters to the upper-most floor of Herald's Rest. Hiding away in the darkest corner, watching the couples. Cole was making himself scarce within his usual space.

One particular couple caught her eye. It was two of Leliana's spies. Merrily laughing, talking and drinking. Caressing each other. Kissing each other. Alone in their space despite the crowd.

Liking the idea of Cullen and her doing the same sort of activities.

Following the two as they exited the tavern. They didn't go far. They went behind the tavern, the dark alcove providing small light and privacy. Watching them from the dark, shadowy side of the roof, flattening her body. Eyes curious as to what they were doing.

It didn't take her long to know what they were planning.

She would have left it at that, but decided for thoroughness sake, to keep watching.

Paying attention to the way the man would kiss her. Heated gasps as their mouths formed together. Her response to the intimate contact. Movements slow and languid. Hands roaming their clothed bodies, fisting the other's hair. After a time the male removed the woman's pants halfway down her thigh. Even in the dim light, Katja saw the moistness, her want for him. Katja thought he would do the same to himself, but instead he lowered his body until he knelt before her. Katja's eyes bugged out.

He. Kissing. Her. There.

From the woman's reaction it was most certainly pleasurable. She arched and moaned loudly until she put her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Hearing the man groan, also receiving pleasure from the act as well. His mouth would cup and lick her pleasure nub – lips tight around the flesh. The woman's wetness sliding down her shaking thighs. The man lifted his right hand and placed it between her moistness, and from Katja's hearing, he inserted some of those fingers within her. The slickness from the penetration and thrusting of the digits.

The woman moaned louder through her bitten hand. Rolling and meeting the man's mouth and fingers with her hips. Her other hand clenching and unclenching the man's hair. With one final cry the woman came. With fervor the man continued to kiss her there. No doubt to taste her orgasm.

After a while, the man met her lips. Having her taste herself on his tongue. Holding each other tight. For the longest time, they stayed like that. Until, after an unspoken consent, the woman pulled her pants back up. The both of them exiting the alcove with their hands holding.

For a moment she stayed still until she was ready to move. Her nether region hot and throbbing, a little uncomfortable from the wetness coating her smalls. Breathing and shaking it off, she made she same roguish trek back to her quarters. The last several hours replaying in her head as she undressed to put on her night clothes. Her smalls were soaked. Using her foot to toss them into a heap with the rest of her clothes. Feeling rather lazy about it.

Going inside her covers on her bed, feeling the warmth.

She couldn't close her eyes without thinking about the couple in the alcove. When she did, the image of Cullen kissing her nub until she orgasmed – bright and vivid.

_Liking_ the idea.

If there was one good thing with her sensory memory, was her very vivid and picture-like imagination.

Rolling with her fantasy.

Removing the offending under shirt, and burying herself deeper within her bed sheets. Closing her eyes, the image of Cullen came to mind. Naked and willing and desirable. Skin hot to the touch, beads of sweat on his forehead, mouth plump from kissing, his bronze eyes drunk with desire, and his manhood rapt at attention – leaking pearls of precum. Planting small kisses down her naked body, briefly stopping at her breasts to kiss and lick her hardened nipples before continuing downward.

Oh those sweet lips, the tickling of the rough skin from his scar and the scratching from his stubble – delicious.

Heat and electricity. Katja's core wet and hot and throbbing.

Making to his destination. Kissing tenderly her nether lips. Gasping at the sensation – losing her breath. His lips were so warm. Licking languidly around her sensitive nub. Rolling her head back from the tease. Feeling the soft, pliable appendage along with his hot breath caused a shutter up her spine.

Satisfied with his teasing, planting a firm kiss on her pleasure spot. She stopped breathing. Cullen's warm, slightly chapped lips and tender tongue taking turns rolling it around. Taking turns sucking firmly and soft kisses. Arching high at the sensation. His large, warrior hands, holding her legs up and apart. Continuing his work with better access. Eventually breathing again – moaning and groaning. Wanting it so much. Sweat pouring off her body. Too hot. Too hot.

One of his hands, his right, made its soft trek down her thigh. The rough digits teased her slick core entrance. Playing with the soft ring. Until two entered her. Sliding in and out with the wet popping sounds. Touching and exploring her soft core. Tightening herself to keep the sensation. Loving that he was _inside_ her. Part of _him_ was _touching_ her.

The combination of his mouth and fingers were too much for her and she came. Orgasming so hard lights danced in her vision. Catching her breath after a few moments. Lowering her legs and pulling her hands away from her neither region – slick from her ministrations. Pushing the covers away from her. Too hot to need them. The cool night air a blessed relief from the self-made heat.

Falling asleep satisfied.

Katja spent the next few nights watching and gathering information for Operation Romance. After the last night, she determined she couldn't learn any more than what was presented to her. The 'dates' would often start the same and end the same. Honestly not believing that could be all there was to it. Perhaps it would different if Cullen were involved within these 'dates'. Then, she and fantasy-Cullen would have their 'alone time'.

Making the mental note to try that out.

Then she realized that Varric had a romance novel called 'Swords and Shields'. That piqued her interest. Their library had a few copies and she decided to read them.

Now she determined a 'Part Two' of her Operation was in order. She was going to test her mind and emotional reaction to the Commander's proximity. Fully knowing her bodies reaction. After all, if she were consenting to going deeper within her idea of what 'romance' or 'courting' was, it would be best to see it at all angles.

The morning of her decision a messenger came to her quarters. The Commander is asking for her attention within his quarters.

A dirty thought came to mind.

After sending the messenger on his way, she got dressed and came within the Commander's quarters.

He had picked one of the battlement towers as his new office. It was still being renovated and furnished with needed shelves and functional décor. Cullen was hunched over his large desk which was cluttered with neat piles of papers and reports. A small kit filled with tools and two small bottles having his attention. Feeling a pull from those bottles.

Lifting himself from his hunched position, fisting his chest in respect.

This didn't seem good. She didn't read faces well but she felt from the aura around him that this was bad.

Concern welling in her chest. Fighting the urge to hold him. Taking note of her reaction.

"Is everything alright Commander?" She asked.

"Yes Inquisitor. I've worked with Leliana to see where the red templars came from: Therinfall Redoubt. From the reports the templars were fed red lyrium until they turned. Samson took over once their corruption was complete."

_Oh. Yes. That. _Pains within her for withholding that information back at Haven. _I lied to them._

"You mentioned you knew Samson." She inquired, keeping her shame to herself.

"Yes. He was a templar in Kirkwall. Well, until he was expelled. I knew he was an addict, but this – red lyrium is nothing like the lyrium from the Chantry. It's power comes with a terrible madness."

"Haven was proof enough Commander."

He nodded, "We cannot allow them to gain strength. If you happen to find any information on your journeys that would help find where they are smuggling the red lyrium, it would be immensely valuable. But be careful, anything connected to Samson is sure to be guarded."

"Of course Commander, we wouldn't want this to be too easy." Katja clasped her hands, a question forming in her mind. Hoping she wasn't poking too deep. "This lyrium addiction Samson has: Is it common for templars?"

The Commander's stone face seemed to blanch at the question. Katja internally trembled at his reaction. Believing she prodded too deep with her question. Her search for information on the Commander and her reaction to him leading down a bad road. That any chance she had of 'courting' or 'romancing' him were being cut off.

"As leader of the Inquisition you," he sighed, "There is something I must tell you. I've been meaning to inform you that –" he sighed again, looking her in the eye, holding the hilt of his sword.

Alarm bells ringing in her mind, "This… sounds ominous Commander. You have my attention."

His face going into the 'sad' category; throat tightened from a hard swallow. "Lyrium grants templars our abilities, but it controls us as well." Going back to his hunched position over the small kit on the desk, "Those cut off suffer – some go mad, others die. We've secured a reliable source for the templars here. But I… no longer take it."

Katja cocked her eyebrows. Well, he technically _hasn't_ told her that.

"I know you're not." She said.

"You –" Raising himself up to look at her with a serious expression, " How could you – Did Cassandra –"

Katja crossed her arms, "All I had to do was pay attention. I've known since I pulled you out of the Fade. At first I was confused as to why your Veil-pull felt so small – especially from the Fade. Then it clicked. Does Cassandra know?"

"Ah –" The Commander couldn't speak for a moment, looking at her in a 'surprise' fashion, "You can… detect the Veil from a templar by their lyrium?"

"Well… yes. Mages as well. Although there's feel different. Can't you? Oh, ah, well," Feeling slightly embarrassed, "not you. Not any more I suppose, but other templars. And you still haven't answered my question about Cassandra. Or the addiction thing."

The Commander just looked at her. He was defiantly sporting a 'surprise' look. Feeling like she was a new species of fruit that he didn't know if he should try to eat.

"I see now! That's how you managed to avoid being caught by templars for almost eighteen years."

Brakes crunched in her head, "Ah, how do you know that Commander?" A sudden memory popped in her head, "You overheard my chat with Cassandra!"

The Commander retracted a little bit like he got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

She chuckled lightly, "I guess it doesn't matter now." Rolling her eyes, "Now that I think of it those dummies were next to your territory. I was practically asking you to overhear." She was annoyed that he had overheard, but decided that she would have told him that anyway. "And I'm guessing that ability isn't… normal."

Great another thing that singles her out. Feeling rather small and self-conscious under his bronze gaze.

"Am I right that to guess that you stopped taking it when you joined the Inquisition?" She asked. "Is that why Cassandra knows?"

Cullen's face went soft and looked away from her to the lyrium kit.

"Yes. I asked Cassandra to… watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised I will be relieved from duty. After what happened in Kirkwall… I just couldn't anymore. I will not be bound to the Order or that life any longer." He sounded more certain to her.

The Commander continued, "And to answer your first question: Lyrium addiction is… present within every templar. Though there are regulations dictating our intake to curb it. Though it pains me to say those who are in charge of the lyrium regulation have become… lax on their duty. Allowing addicts like Samson to form."

Katja's softening heart needed to know, "What of you?"

Katja saw his throat tighten, his eyes darting away from her, lips becoming pinched. She done fucked up. Her social inadequacies slapping her in the face.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted out. "I didn't mean to pry."

His liquid bronze eyes met her's and all she wanted was to hold him – to whisper kind reassurances. When he spoke it was soft and filled with sorrow, "There were times that I wanted to drown myself with the song of lyrium. To forget."

Then, his voice reverted back to a commanding tone, "I've been working with the Knight-Commander to reinforce the regulations of lyrium for the templars here. To keep those addictions in check. There's been plenty resistance, but it's gaining some ground."

"Are you in pain?"

"Whatever the suffering I accept it."

Feeling soft, mucky puddles within her belly form. Not fighting the instinct to walk to the Commander and… hug him. It was light and brief. Instead of those soft feelings to dissipate like she assumed, they only intensified. Touching him and the close proximity. Her heart hammered in her chest. Retracting her arms like she hurt herself. It was a similar feeling when she first hugged him when he returned Cat's Tooth to her.

Heat flaring within herself, "I, ah, respect what you are doing." Daring herself to look up at him.

Her neutral mask almost breaking.

Cullen had a 'surprise' look on his face but the hard edges were so soft. Lips slightly parted. Bronze eyes liquid smooth. A similar face of satisfaction after a night of rutting.

Swallowing hard, trying to find her voice. Clearing her throat she said, "I believe in you."

The surprise look fading leaving nothing but the soft expression on his face. His mouth curling crookedly. A faint redness ghosting his cheeks. Katja absolutely wanted to _eat_ him. Devour his lips into herself.

Scared, she rushed out. Leaving a bewildered Commander.

Immediately reprimanding herself for acting out like that.

_You're supposed to gather information! Not flailing your arms like a fool!_

Although she could admit that later that night, the smooth prickles of her touching him were pleasing enough. Remembering the smell of dried thyme.

* * *

The Commander was utterly bewildered and feeling rather small of himself.

He dared speak of his affliction so openly, even though it caused him great pain to do so. To _her_. And she… didn't retract from him. It was as he had hoped. Katja accepted him. Feeling a little better that he confided his affliction. Though he didn't need to go so far into his constant fight of the withdrawal – he couldn't deny her inquiry of his own past pain with it. It was safe with her.

_She believes in me._ That gave him a little boost in his dwindling confidence of the withdrawal pains. He heard the same from Cassandra, but from her – it gave him strength. Never wanting to disappoint her.

That night he went to bed a little more soundly even though the bad dreams still came. After he awoke in the morning, he said a silent prayer of her safe return. She had left earlier that morning with her companions into the Exalted Plains.

A messenger arrived mid-morning: Mother Giselle wanted an audience with him and the other commanders within the war room.

That gave the Commander pause. Why would she need an audience with him and the other commanders?

Dismissing the messenger, he left his office and made a bee-line the war room. The other commanders – Josephine and Leliana – were in attendance along with Mother Giselle. The commander's having a curious and bewildered expression on the impromptu meeting.

"Thank you all for coming," Mother Giselle started, "I know this seems rather strange that I asked you all to come so sudden. However, it concerns the Lady Inquisitor."

The Commander raised his brows, has something happened to her? She just left that morning. Must be something else.

"Is something wrong Mother Giselle?" asked Leliana.

"I am unsure Lady Leliana. I received a letter from her parents, more specifically her father, this morning. Asking about her. Wanting to see if she would be… willing to see them."

"That is rather strange for them to come to you." Josephine remarked.

"Indeed. They seemed afraid of her rejecting them in the letter. They've also stated that you, Lady Ambassador, know something of it."

The Commander and spymaster looked queerly at her.

She sighed, explaining, "Back at Haven, I received a letter from the Trevelyan's, wanting to confirm if Lady Katja really was their daughter. I sent a detailed letter about her in return. Considering her 'disappearance' from them when she was a child. A return letter was received pledging their support, although they asked that it be kept from her ears. They asked, in return, that I keep an eye on her and send letters about her health."

Mother Giselle nodded, "Yes. It seems as though they are trying to reach out to her. I don't think there is any malice in their intentions of a reunion – of parents seeking out their child. However, this goes beyond of my knowledge. I don't know her very well personally and her being a noble and the Inquisitor complicates matters."

The Commander furrowed his brows, "So you are asking us to convince her?" Remembering when Josephine asked her about her family name back at Haven – her brief, seething anger.

She shook her head, "No. But, perhaps it would be best if you three read the letter he sent me."

Procuring the folded parchment from her side pocket and presenting it to the three commanders. Each took their turn reading it.

_To: Mother Giselle of the Inquisition_

_I know that this letter may seem strange to you. However, I ask that you keep it in your heart if you must. By now I'm sure you know that Katja Trevelyan is my daughter. It's been years since the last that I looked on her – I still remember when she was a wild, willful, rambunctious child before her time at the Ostwick Circle. An event that forced her to leave and remain hidden even from us. I'm sure that she still harbors ill feelings toward us for sending her._

_I fear that she may hardly remember her father, but I ask that you see if she would be willing to see both I and her mother. After her brother left to join the templars, she became our pride. She is our only daughter, our only heir left to the world. We never dreamed of having another child after her brother. The Maker sent her to us, a blessed child. It has taken many sleepless nights gathering courage to even think of seeing her. Please if you would, see if it's possible. The ambassador, Lady Montilyet, has a little information on our predicament with her._

_I would not force it on my Katja, she was always willful when she put her mind to something. Though, even if she doesn't want to see us, know that whatever the Inquisition needs the Trevelyan House will always give full support. Use whatever discretion you deem fit Mother Giselle._

_From: Roderick Gregory II; the Head of House Trevelyan; Teyrn of Ostwick; and Father of Katja Ruthine I, the Heir of House Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor of the Inquisition_

The commander's looked at each other – a mixture of sadness and uncertainty.

Josephine addressed the Mother, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We will consider their request."

She nodded, "I pray that a reunion comes and that it goes well between them." With that she left the war room, leaving the commanders behind.

"What do you two think?" asked Josephine, "Thoughts?"

Leliana sighed, "Cassandra told me her brief story back at Haven." With that she recanted what information Cassandra pried from Katja. "It has been eighteen years since they seen each other. I'd be like two strangers seeing each other. All we can do is tell her about it."

"What of you Commander? You've been a little quiet." Josephine looked in his direction.

He didn't really know what to say. Perhaps their intentions were noble like Mother Giselle believed. He certainly hope so. Not really knowing what to do in this sort of situation.

_What kind of man would I be if I spent the majority of my life on the run since childhood without the guidance of my parents?_

"All we can do is inform her of their intentions, like Leliana said. Whether she wants to see them is up to her."

The other's nodded.

"Commander, hold on to the letter. We'll present it to her on her return."

He felt the beginnings of a flush. He sighed, "Alright."

* * *

The evening came, it was the hour of the owl. The people of Skyhold were fast asleep. The night crew, a select few patrolled the grounds. A quiet and uneventful task.

The templar received an anonymous note earlier that afternoon to meet him in an unrenovated battlement tower during the hour of the owl. The whole thing said 'trap', but his instincts told him something else was at play. The large templar waited for whoever sent the note. Cloaked in darkness and the only source of light was the full moon that peeked through the window and part of the collapsed roof.

He didn't have to wait long. She came out of the darkness, wearing her usual armor and lavender hood. Flecks of red hair protruding out of the hood.

He fisted his chest in respect. "Why have you summoned me Sister at this time of night?"

Always getting straight to the point.

"It seems that Mother Giselle received an important letter regarding the Inquisitor. Perhaps you know something of the senders."

His face hard as iron, nodded. "I do."

"I should hope so, a little more than what you have led on to your peers."

The templar let out a baritone chuckle, "Yes, I am aware of those actions Sister. However, you would also know that templars let go of familial titles when they join the Order."

"Oh? But it seems as though you are bending that rule."

He shook his head in annoyance, "I said 'familial titles' not family. For that I have _never_ forgotten."

"Though it seems you are content on letting her go on without knowing who you are."

Sighing wearily, "I made a promise. Even if she never knows about it. Never knowing who I am. It has been eighteen years since she last saw me, when I last saw her. I was eighteen and she was seven. It is unsurprising she hasn't recognized me."

"Though you recognized her?"

"Oh yes. Big brothers never forget their wild, runt sisters."

"And the senders of the letter?"

"I have discussed it with them. They truly want to see her. They are up in age Sister and mother is very ill. It would do them good to see each other again. To have her know the truth."

The Sister raised a perceiving brow. "What truth would that be?"

"They never stopped looking for her, never stopped loving her. If you are as good as you say, you have an inkling as to why she escaped the Ostwick Circle and part of the reason why she was never found."

"I have my suspicions as to what happened to her at the Circle."

"Then let me be clear Sister: He messed with the wrong child. It went on long enough with him. She was his last, but wasn't the first. Those that knew and did nothing have meet their fate as well. Though those came after."

"Thanks to you?"

He nodded. "Along with some parental aid."

* * *

It had taken Katja and the Inquisition three long weeks to quell some of the fighting in the Exalted Plains. Both sides were indebted to the Inquisition – playing the neutral party that gave aid to the wounded and help those refugees that called the Plains home. Along with the same song and dance of closing rifts and fighting the red templars. There were tense moments where both sides wanted her to join their ranks, petty squabbles vying for her attention or sending threats to stop treating their 'enemy' but she dismissed them. She saw no point in dragging the Inquisition into a civil war that they had no business fighting. Point blank telling them so in two separate letters.

Feeling ever better with being in the castle walls. Though her thoughts went to the Commander. Searching him out after changing to something more casual and loose fitting than her armor.

She heard from Varric that Cullen was within the gardens having a chess match with Dorian.

That got her excited. He plays chess!

A whole other realm opened up within Katja. She was going to see him within a pure strategy environment. The types of moves played unlocking mental barriers of a person's psyche.

Walking to the gardens, although it would be border lining on jogging. Slowing steadily once they were within her sights. Quietly walking up.

"Gloat all you like I've got this one." Cullen remarked while moving a piece. Focused on the game.

"Are you _sassing_ me Commander, I didn't know you had it in you." Dorian said sarcastically while moving a piece of his own.

Cullen sighed while holding one of his pieces, "Why do I even bother –" he noticed her staring suddenly, "Inquisitor!" startled he started to stand, dropping his piece. Looking like a cornered animal.

"Leaving are you? Does this mean I win?" Dorian smirked.

Cullen sat back down, eyes darting between her and the board.

Tilting her head, eyes focused on the board, "Play nice you two." She dryly said.

Dorian smirked and cocked a brow, "I'm _always_ nice."

The Commander sighed, returning the piece he dropped to the position he wanted it. Relaxing a bit.

Dorian huffed, "You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better." Placing his piece.

If the Commander moved that piece –

He did, "Oh really because I just won. And I feel fine." Smugly rubbing it in.

Dorian raised his hands in defeat, "Don't be so smug. There be no living with you." He got up and leaving the two of them.

The Commander grinned crookedly while turning to face her.

Katja filed in her skipped heartbeat to seeing the grin.

"I should return to my duties as well. Unless… you would care for a game?"

_Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!_

"I would love to." She calmly tried to say, though she nearly skipped to her side of the board.

"I used to play this with my sister," he said while arranging the pieces to their respected positions, "She would get this stuck up grin when she would win. Which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won. Between serving the templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays." The last piece arranged.

He nodded for her to make the first move.

Absorbing the information. Full strategy mode activated. He was showing his expertise at the game. Trying to throw her off. Give her cold feet. Rapporting his experience. His talent. Despite the constant victories of an opponent he would persist. Keeping at the back of her mind the purpose of the game was for information. Not for her to win necessarily.

Good play regardless.

"You have siblings?" She asked.

"Two sisters and a brother."

"Where are they now?" She asked before moving a little piece.

Wanting to psychologically rattle him a little. His lack of knowledge of his family would lead to a mistake or a counter-move on her.

"They moved to South Reach after the Blight. Ah, it's my turn."

He dismissed her physiological attack. Moving a knight.

Bold or reckless.

"Let's see what your made of Commander."

Turns out he used that knight as a sacrifice to get to her Bishop via a pawn. Cunning. Willing to make a sacrifice to take out a larger danger.

Dragging the game on well into the afternoon. Gaining loads of information on him. Though he did have a… distracting mannerism. Noticing that when he was about to play a good counter-move, he would… lick his lips on the side with his scar.

The action eliciting a naughty notion within her. Of her fantasy of him using that nimble appendage that would make her as moist as his tongue did to his lips. Clinching her legs together to keep her throbbing desire at bay. Though she wouldn't mind if he would take her as a spoil of victory, or the other way around. The garden's flowers were blossoming nicely and the warm glow of the afternoon was pleasant.

Controlling her heated desire enough to continue. Allowing, as part of their game, information on her to be released to his ears. He's earned trust from her.

"How was your time traveling? Before the Conclave?" Cullen inquired.

"It was rather peaceful. Simple in comparison. Most of my days were spent training the lessons Havardr taught me in the Fade. Sometimes I went on adventures to test my skills. To improve my self-mastery."

"Adventures? To where?"

Thinking about which one to relate, "Well I met a talking oak tree in the Brecilian Forest. Such a weird tree. He kept speaking in rhymes. Called himself The Grand Oak. My original purpose to go there was under Havardr's instruction. The Grand Oak was a friend of his."

The Commander raised both eye-brows, "A talking oak tree?"

Katja nodded, "Oh yes. Anyway, he was so kind to me – he called me Sapling – on account my short stature and youth. He would often lift me up and let me sit on his shoulder, from there I could see the forest for miles. I was thirteen and stayed as his 'Sapling' for two years.

"As a test to my growing abilities, he took me to an old, abandoned elven ruin. Not the one in the eastern part that gets the most attention. But one that remained hidden from the elves and other prying eyes. I was to go inside and defeat the trials. Oak told me there was a twisted spirit that slept within the lowest part of the ruin and I was to slay it. Once I did so, I was to take the artifact the spirit had as proof of my success. As you can tell, I was successful. The skills that The Grand Oak taught me were very useful."

Cullen furrowed his brows, "What… kind of artifact was this?"

"It was an enchantment that mended and strengthened the Veil. It was unfortunately damaged beyond repair." Katja explained.

"So… you… defeated a dangerous and powerful demon in an ancient, elven temple, by yourself? At almost fifteen? That's incredible!"

Feeling pride well within her chest from his compliment.

Intelligent. Strategizer. Purposeful.

Noticing he would grin lightly when it was her turn. Her heart skipping lightly. Cullen did it enough for her to suspect that he was doing it on purpose. Trying to throw her off her game. Part of his strategy. His stratagem on her. Liking that he was noticing her mannerisms of her own subterfuge.

Two can play at that.

Shooting him a grin of her own.

Noticing that the tips of his ears would turn slightly red and his bronze eyes would dart away. Taking his hand to rub the back of his neck.

"This ah, is the longest that we've gone without discussing the Inquisition, or related matters. To be honest I appreciate the distraction."

Testing new ground on herself, "Then, we should do this more often."

This bronze eyes shimmered, "I would like that."

"Me too." Being completely honest with herself and him. This was the most fun that she has had in a long time.

He lowered his gaze and his expression softened, "You said that. We should… finished our game, right? My turn?"

She nodded and 'um-hum'd at him.

After several more moves, it was obvious she would win at that point, unable to delay it – as much as she liked it.

"I believe this game is yours. Well played. We shall have to try again sometime."

She gave him a smug grin, "Well you did have some good moves there Commander."

A loud bell rang through the stone walls.

"Ah, the evening meal is being served. I didn't realize it was that late."

"Me either Cullen. Let us go and see what is being served."

Both got up from their seats and walked together out of the lush garden. Noticing both Leliana and Josephine by the exit that lead to the main hall. The Commander frowned at their presence. Katja raised her eyebrow, thinking that something was wrong.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to the fav/followers SnowdropBeast, jen1027, laurieann . krueger . 7, Starbuckathena, and Mi'lae I'batir! Thank you for sending me lovely guest reviews Rae and Em.

Well, after 10 chapters have some smut action… even if it is fantasy smut. But hey, I think that's almost every Curlyites fantasy.

Mar artz for mae fiktion:

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/Wild-Freedom-515847775

and

botticella89 . deviantart . (com/) art/What-516709507


	13. Doesn't Remind Me

Chapter 12: Doesn't Remind Me

The Commander saw the Ambassador and Spymaster. Panicked dread welling within his gut. The gleeful boyish warmth from their chess match dissipating.

_Surely they aren't going to tell her._

The Inquisitor arched her brow at them, but responded kindly, "Hello Josephine, Leliana. Were you two waiting?"

"Only a few moments Inquisitor." Josephine replied, "I dare say that was an exciting play of chess that I've ever seen."

Leliana grinned, "And you managed to outplay the Commander? Even I have difficulties with him. It takes a special kind of woman to tame him. Wouldn't you say Commander?"

The Commander managed to stifle his impending blush. Crossing his arms in ill-amusement.

"Well," said the Lady Inquisitor (though he would _swear_ she was teasing him), "he almost had me after a few moves. All I had to do was be wily enough to curl his toes."

That earned a guffawed giggle from the two women. The Inquisitor just arched her brow at them confusedly and the Commander could feel the tips of his ears turn red. He absolutely hated that these two had a private amusement from his uncomfortable shyness and awkwardness. Though he was thankful that the Inquisitor seemed less inclined in that direction. She didn't seem fazed one bit. Either it was too subtle or she tolerated the teasing.

"And I'm sure the Commander's toes were curling like his hair from that ferocity on the board."

More muffled giggles.

The Inquisitor turned her head and her ruby eyes fixated on his blond mane. He frowned heavily. Getting the idea that she was mentally seeing the curls he tamed daily. She then cocked her head lamely.

"I have difficulty Cullen, thinking you have curly hair as Leliana describes."

"I don't -!"

"Are you saying it's naturally like that?" Leliana cut in.

Cullen swallowed hard, "Not… entirely."

"Well Commander, it looks nice today. Don't you think so Lady Inquisitor?" Asked Josephine.

After a few heated moments she replied, though it towards him she asked, "Why do you keep your curls down?"

The Commander wanted to melt right through the cracks of Skyhold – his blush making him feel hot.

"Inquisitor, the Commander wants to be seen put together. Surely taming some curls is part of that representation, no?"

The Inquisitor arched her brow at Leliana's answer. "That's silly. Commander, you're always put together. I fail to see how 'taming' your curls is a part of that. You could go to the training yard to watch the recruits, like you do every morning, naked and they'd still follow orders without blinking."

The two troublesome women howled at her response.

The Inquisitor sighed at their loud laughter. Making a face at the embarrassed Commander at their hysterics. "Um, did I say something funny?"

Cullen crossed his arms tighter and fought the urge to stomp away. "Maker's Breath… Can we _please_ speak of something else?"

After a few moments the two meddling women stifled their laughter – their cheeks red and the beginnings of tears in their eyes. Shaking the mirth out of their system. The women clearing their throats, a little raspy from the laughter.

"Although that was sorely needed Inquisitor, and unexpected, there is another matter that we needed to bring to your attention." Josephine interluded, "Let us discuss it on your quarters. And Commander," she looked at him solemnly, "would you get _that letter_ from your office please?"

The Commander clenched his jaw, muscles spasming. It was as he originally thought. His earlier embarrassment receding. Nodding and leaving stiffly to his office. Grateful that no one interrupted him to and from his office. A sense of dread in his being. Hoping for the best for the Lady Inquisitor. Mentally saying a silent prayer.

Upon entering the Inquisitor's chambers, it was the first he had ever seen it. Clean, organized and lightly furnished. Five tightly packed bookcases lined the furthest wall. Her desk on the furthest corner, had stacks of neatly assorted reports. Her bed, a clean-cut if simple make, was in the middle of the left wall. The tall glass windows were open, allowing the colors of the setting sun to omit a golden and purple shadow glow. Colors minimal and calming. Dozens of potted plants, ranging from simple Elfroot to rare Amrita Vein. Having a strong earthy perfume seeping into the very stones. Small werelights that omitted warmth from their glow hovered over each plant. Certain that this was _not_ Josephine's choice for her chambers.

The three women were sitting quietly on the Inquisitor's small table a few paces away from the warm fire. One of her werelights hovered brightly over them – a little sun in the dimly lit space.

The Commander's locked feelings always rattled when he saw her like this. She was calm and glowing from both the setting sun and the werelight. Giving her an ethereal appearance. Reminding him just how beautiful she is. Feeling pains of guilt over the letter he had within his coat pocket.

_I am not worthy of her._

Taking the only chair left, which happened to be on the right side of the Inquisitor herself. Her ruby red eyes sparkled in the light. Twinkling in his skull. Looking at him curiously. Feeling as though his armor wasn't enough to hide from her. He always felt mentally naked around her.

Leliana cleared her throat from the growing tension.

"As we were discussing Lady Katja, we consider ourselves friends when we aren't your advisors. Do you feel the same?"

She arched a dark grey brow at her, but nodded slowly. Possibly wondering where she was going with this line of discussion.

"Right," Josephine came to, "so as friends, we'd thought a certain topic should be discussed if you are willing to hear us out."

"I have a feeling this is going to be uncomfortable for me personally." Responded dryly. The Commander saw her throat tighten and her face turning blank.

"We don't mean it for it to be so Lady Katja." Josephine continued, "We are just in a tough spot on how to put it, but I will be said plainly. But please, hear us out on it and we _are_ discussing it as _friends_."

Cullen saw her clasp her hands tightly at the line of discussion. He'd be wrong to say he wasn't feeling the same.

Josephine sighed before continuing, "The day of your departure to the Exalted Plains, Mother Giselle received a letter in which she approached us on how to deal with what it contained. The sender of the letter was from… your father."

Her reaction, or lack thereof was instantaneous. She clasped her hands tighter and her expression went stoic. She was still. Turning her head just so slightly to look past them – gazing as something in the distance. It was probably him, but he thought that the werelights flickered minutely. The other commanders could feel something churn dangerously within the room. Cullen didn't think that she would do anything dangerous, but he couldn't help but share similar unease. He could feel his heart begin to race.

"He… ah," Josephine was actually stammering, "It would be best that you read the letter. We don't believe he means any harm. Just… remember we are here for you Lady Katja, as friends." She turned to him and stiffly nodded.

Swallowing the lump in his throat he procured the letter from its place in his coat and offered it to the Inquisitor. Her distant, ruby eyes on him. Feeling as though he were being physically compressed under her gaze. Tendrils of actual fear creeping in his bones. She looked like an omnipotent being peeling his skin to expose his true self. Electricity punctuating in his nerves.

Her eyes lowered to the offending letter in his gloved hand. Considering to actually touch it, hold it, read it. Until finally, to actually do that. Her attention focused on the runes on the parchment.

The rattled Commander took a brief second to glance at the other two commanders. In their own way, they were just as shaken by her reaction. The werelight flickered again.

He heard a crunching noise from his left – to find that the Inquisitor was crumpling the letter. The hand glowed bright as he felt her mana surge, setting the paper on fire. Harsh and flaring bright – the ripples tearing bitterly with anger. The paper curled and burned black and flecked it's withering ashes away. Just as sudden as she set the letter on fire did it dissipate. The Commander kept still, old memories flashing just as bright in his mind. Calming himself to remember where he was. Muscles shaking.

He needed to say something.

"Inquisitor –"

Cut short as she flew out of her chair – knocking it down – and stomping to her open balcony. Rising just as quickly to follow her. The other two were just as quick. Dimly aware of the popping werelights. A moment too late as the Inquisitor started to climb up the stone and mortar of Skyhold. Her actions quick and deliberate.

"Inquisitor come back down!" Cullen called out to her, afraid of her falling. That in her distress she doomed herself.

The other two called just as loud as he, but Inquisitor paid no mind to them. As soon she pulled herself one last time and she was gone from sight, on top of the roof. Hearing the receding clinking from her shoes contacting with the tiles.

Hating the whole situation. That hadn't been what he, or anyone else, was hoping for. Loathing himself for thinking that she would be receptive of seeing her parents.

"That… wasn't what I was hoping for." Right on the head Josephine.

"Let us give her some time." Leliana responded, "That was the first contact she has had with her parents in eighteen years. I'm sure she is in shock over it."

The Commander shook his head, "Pray that she doesn't hurt herself."

"No, I doubt it. She's too sure-footed for that."

"That wasn't what I was talking of."

Unable to do anything more, the commanders departed. Solemn and weary. Too drained from the experience the Commander couldn't eat the evening meal. He couldn't even get one report to stay within his head once he returned to his office. Thoughts thinking of Lady Trevelyan's circumstance. Feeling rather foolish about it. He didn't know or understand the specifics of their transpiring that led to her ill-feelings. Whatever it was, it was enough bitterness that it carried with her throughout her life.

Bitterness that the Commander understood from so long ago. The nightmares within his dreams were his reminders.

Well into the evening, the half-moon glowed and the stars shimmered. Most of Skyhold had retired and those that hadn't were at Herald's Rest. If the Commander could focus his bronze eyes, he could see faintly her silhouette on Skyhold's roof. A shimmer of her moon-hair. Thinking a soft prayer of her well-being.

Deciding that, since his paper work wasn't going to get any further along, he would walk the battlements. The night was cool and lacking it's bite.

The soft music from a lute player from the tavern echoed gently as he walked past. A juxtaposition tune to the day's events. Starting off joyful and turning melancholic. Lady Katja's calm face the perfect marriage to the corded strings.

_She's in the strings. Cording within the stones._ He absently thought. Surprised at the drifting romantic notions echoing in his mind.

The tavern behind him now as he ran into the mysterious Cole. Looking out to the roof of Skyhold. Taking a guess as to whom he was looking out at. He didn't personally think it was a good idea to have the boy, spirit, whatever he was within Skyhold. However, he will respect the Inquisitor's decision. The boy hadn't harmed anyone that he was aware of and he seemed genuine in his quest to help them. Old training that had ingrained into his psyche was hard to break.

"She wants to forgive them."

His words stopping the Commander from his walk. Arching his brows at the strange boy.

"Who?" He asked.

"The Herald, Katja. It hurts to hear her though. She won't let me near her. Selfish with her hurt."

The Commander sighed. It was obvious that what happened earlier hurt her.

"She won't say."

"She doesn't need to Commander. We know when she hurts." He physically hugged himself, head downcast, "A child locked inside. Nowhere to climb. Don't let them take me. I promise I won't burn the drapery again. It's my fault. If only I was a better daughter. I shame them. _Betrayal_."

Cullen's expression slackened as Cole took steps back like he had been struck. His boney hands rubbing his temples. This was the part that gave him pause around the boy. His ability to know one's hurts. Their pain. And he just in a way, told him hers.

"Was… was that private? I haven't gotten what it means for 'private' and 'public' yet."

Cullen sighed, "It's alright Cole. Technically that was private."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I think it's okay if I tell you that though. You want to help her too. You help remind her."

He physically stiffened at Cole. "Remind her?"

Instead of explaining, he drifted off, "She feels like she did back at Haven but like an in-between self. A heaviness in her mind. She was lighter when she as coming out of the snow after. Lighter still when she held you. Burdens released. Goodness remembered. The earthy smell of dried thyme. Promise me Little Great Bear."

"I… don't understand Cole."

"You do understand a little but you don't like what it may mean. She remembers like you remember that not all mages were like Uldred. The banishing of the Flaming Sword for her. Seeing the flesh and blood and not the brand."

He wanted to retract from the conversation, especially since he brought up _that_ unpleasantness from his past. Calming himself, releasing the memories away within his mind. Keeping himself _here_.

_I see you._ Her voice rang softly within his mind. Pushing the unpleasant memories away. Distant notions within forming pathways that connected.

She did seem rather calmer and less inclined of her usual neutrality around him – softer even. Remembering their chess match from earlier that day. He felt like a schoolboy that had his crush sit next to him during lessons. Excitement tickling his bones. Hours playing and talking. He saw her easiness and glimpses of mischievousness of her moves on him. When she smiled at him… Sweet Andraste.

His infatuation getting the better of him. Mentally reprimanding himself. Still worried over her wellbeing.

"Will she be alright?" He asked.

"I don't know Cullen. She hurts when she thinks of them but she's happy too. Maybe talking to them may help. She realizes how she misses them. But she doesn't know if she holds something that is no longer there."

The Commander swallowed the lump in his throat. "She would have answers."

The boy nodded, "She likes certainty."

The Commander finished his walk of the battlements before retiring for that night. Rolling within his bed covers without anything on. Thoughts still on Katja as he closed his eyes. Wanting nothing more than to hold her. To give her that certainty that he cared for her and to do the right thing. Feeling her within his arms – her warmth seeping into is skin. Soft moon hair caressing his cheek and nose. The sweet delicate smell of dew grass and pine needles.

Thoughts drifting – curious of the notion to actually… kiss her.

As their embrace slowly parted, he tilted his head to kiss her forehead then her cheek before retracting. Too shy to descend to her dragonthorn berry red lips; full and all too tempting. Her sweet face in a surprise 'O' but quickly turned to mischievous. Eyes twinkling like rubies.

"Is that all my Commander has for me?" She would say. "I.. wouldn't mind." Words caressing his skin and ear.

Shy desire sending gooseprickles into his nerves. "You wouldn't my Lady?"

"It's' Katja' remember Cullen? And no, I wouldn't." It was then she leaned up, and her lips touched his. Her eyes glistening through half-lidded lashes. Divine and happy; aching for him.

Skin igniting in sweet electricity. Flutters danced within his stomach and his chest constricted. Softly gasping at the contact, opening his mouth lightly to take in her lower lip. Heat burning away his trepid shyness. Touching his thoughts in a corded embrace. Stirring his nether region in locked passion.

All too soon the kiss lost contact.

Her face had a slight pinkness from the kiss. A small smile from the full lips that had just kissed his. Wanting her so very much.

"You don't regret kissing me do you?"

"No! No. Not at all." He responded quietly before sudden boldness seized him and he kissed her back.

She omitted a gasp of surprise, but was quickly put away as she eagerly reciprocated. Her fingers twirling within his hair – wanting a deeper kiss as she opened her lips. Holding her tightly within his arms, he tentively flicked his tongue on hers. Causing a shiver to run down his spine and nestle within his groin. Lady Katja gasped, a deeper flush on her tan cheeks. Mimicking the action with his and kissing his scar as well.

Getting bolder, he kissed her lower lip, sucking lightly into his mouth – running his tongue on the soft flesh. Katja, at the same time, did similar motions with his upper lip. Her breathing desperate. Hands clutching tightly on his wheat colored hair. Feeling her trembles on her legs. His heart hammered loudly in his ears. When he looked in to her eyes – desire building in himself – they were dark and bright at the same time. His fire was her fire.

Opening his mouth slightly, she took the opportunity to twine her tongue with his. Falling with it; deepening their shared passion. Exploring their mouths. Her gasps were sweeter than a snagged treat from a mother's kitchen. His hands shyly ran down her curved spine. Feeling the heat that lay just beneath her shirt and his gloves.

Very much hating his armor at this point.

All too soon they had to stop for air. He felt like melting right into her. Clothes beginning to stick to his burning skin. His member hot and wanting more – straining against his leather trousers.

Leaving small kisses in her cheek, descending as far as he could go to her neck. Her breath on his ear.

"Please." She hoarsely whispered. Heat flaring again in his already burning nerves. Making the hairs on his neck stand up. "You don't have to ask."

Looking back at her from his kisses. Her face pleading with him wanting what he wanted to.

"I… suppose not. I want –" she kissed him, it was a small peck to stop his words.

"Do I have to order you Commander?"

Grinning at her words. In a deft and fast moment, sweeping her off her feet. Katja elicited a surprise yelp but chucked at his action. Quickly finding his bed and settling her on it like she was Andraste herself. Without reservation, she pulled off her shirt, exposing her naked torso. His bronze eyes couldn't tear away from her perfection.

She chuckled, "Something you like my Commander?"

Meeting her mischievous eyes, he grinned back at her, "Everything."

With that, he set out to disrobe himself. Tossing his offending leather shirt and breastplate. Meeting her in the same state of undress. Her eyes giving him the same heated look he had just moments before gave her. Meeting her at her side he languidly kissed her tempting lips. Gently exploring her body with his hands and she the same.

Cupping her mounds, running his thumb across the pert nipple and then pinching it. Earning him an excited gasp. Continuing his trek, running into the offending cloth of her trousers. Undoing the button, giving him room to lower his hand down. Katja gasped loudly and shivered as he cupped her womanly mound. Feeling the soft downy hair, slickness and heat from her nether lips. Running his fingers gently, teasingly across the flesh. Finding more of the heat and slickness. She moaned and clutched tighter at his shoulders. He started kissing her neck as he continued to tease her nether lips.

Rubbing in small, caressing circles around her pearl – gracing him with delicious moans from her lips. Her hips rocking into his hand.

"Yes Cullen." She half-moaned half whispered into his ear.

Kicking off her flat shoes, loudly thunking on the floor, and her long fingers pulled her trousers and small clothes lower. Exposing his mischievous hand and her silky womanly mound. Pushing and kicking her trousers and small clothes until she was completely naked before him. Holy and perfect.

Keeping his teasing tempo on her pearl and caressing softly her entrance to her core. The silky ring hot and slick for him.

Kissing her neck and slowly guiding down to her pert breasts – tasting the salt from her skin. Pulling, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. Moaning at her taste.

Her continued moans from his ministrations spurred him to increase his tempo – caressing her pearl with his fingers faster. Moans becoming hitched and her hips bucking harder. Her nails digging into his shoulder – sending mixes of pain and pleasure. Looking down at her she had the most pleasured face. Flushed, beads of sweat glistening her brow, red eyes dark with pleasure. Looking at him with love and desire. That he was doing this to her. Moaning at her expression.

Her eyes rolled as she arched one last time. He could feel her nether lips and pearl throb hard from her orgasm.

Cullen's body trembled hard as his breathing reached a fever pitch as he cried out. His member throbbed violently as he came. His seed splattering his stomach and part of his chest.

Calming himself from the force of his orgasm. Feeling slightly disguised with himself. He didn't even realize, in the heat of the moment, that he had a mind-fantasy. About her.

_What a pathetic man I am._

Reaching over to his night stand, taking a small hand-towel to rub away the evidence of his self-pleasure. Tossing it uncaringly to his right. Pulling the covers closer to himself to hide. Praying that his inappropriate thoughts would leave him.

* * *

Cold hands wiped angrily away cool wetness on her cheeks. Having enough of the isolating bitterness. Hating herself privately. It would have been a matter of time before her parents contacted her. In her mind they were far away like she was physically far away. That letter brought all of it back to her. She didn't hate them as much as she hated herself. Very much terrified of the consequences of them being here. Experience told her that thinking of seeing them and them actually physically being here were two different concepts.

A harsh wind blew the thoughts away. Her moon hair whipping like a banner.

_I'll think on this tomorrow. _Then another pressing thought came too_, They must be worried about me._

Her advisors were important to her niche in the world. They cared about her. Honestly thinking that they can't fulfill their duties if they worried over their leader's well being. But, they came to her as her friends. She wasn't _that_ socially inadequate to know what a friend was. There was one among them that she really valued. That was Cullen.

That man was a big worrier.

Wanting to put his fears and worries to bed first. The one good thing of being so high up is having the eagle-eye view of the Skyhold complex. The moon was high up and gave the stones a nice dark-blue grey shine. A light fog was beginning to set in place. A few lights from torches dotted the battlements and even the tavern, Herald's Rest, was growing dark this late. Eyeing the battlement where the Commander's quarters was. It too, was dark. She skillfully climbed her way down the main tower of Skyhold. Using a very dim werelight and the glow of the moon to aid in her decent. Having practiced getting used to the stones and their temperament with her hands and feet. Those too, were her friends.

Only the night crew were out this late. They were easy enough for her skill to dodge. Not wanting to be bothered on her way to see the Commander. Silent as a shadow.

She was face to face with his office door. No, he wouldn't be in his office this late. Well, sometimes. Thinking he was in his room in the loft, she forgoed the door and climbed up to the hole in the roof. Honestly not believing that a semi-perfectionist like him would allow a hole in the roof, but even they have their quirks. However, she rather liked it, it provided an easy access for her roguish skill to his room.

Holstering herself one last time over the crumbled stone – her feet dangling into the dark of his room. Silently having lowered her werelight into the dark space. She hadn't seen his loft turned room and was a little curious of what it looked liked and how far it was from her perch on the crumbled roof. Pleased that it wasn't far up; she turned and held on the stones before letting go, using her left foot to push her away from the wall and her right to land on. Bending legs and body to quietly absorb the shock of her landing on the wood beams. Just a muffled squeak from the wood floor from her weight.

Taking a moment to look around the dim room. Before sending her werelight to explore the room, she noticed a hand towel on the floor near her. The Commander was too much of a stickler to let something as small as a hand towel be on the floor. On closer inspection from her werelight, she noted a wet sheen. Nearly chuckling when she realized what it was.

Feeling her body heat up at the thought of 'catching' Cullen pleasuring himself. Releasing his seed on himself from his orgasm. Streaking and sticking to his flesh thickly.

Shivering at the thought.

Calming herself, Katja sent her werelight in a slow circle around the room. Appreciating the Commander's functional attitude. A wardrobe, bookshelf, nightstand and bed. In said bed was the Commander himself. Sprawled on his back snoring softly, covers hiding him from his waist down. From her dim werelight, he was not wearing a shirt. Pale skin sparkling softly.

Approaching quietly to the bed. Looking appreciably at the Commander's masculine body. Nearly yelping in excitement.

_He does have curly hair!_

From his sleep, his hair had become relaxed, resorting to their natural curled appearance. He looked even more handsome to her. It made him look more wild and fierce. He didn't look silly at all, as she suspected that would be the reason he kept it down.

Her musings were cut short as he began to tremble. Calm face contorting to one of pain and anger.

"Leave me!" He hoarsely growled out.

Another nightmare for him.

Blossoming empathy welled in her breast. She didn't him like this – pain filled dreams. Deciding that using a spell was a bad idea – from previous experience. One more idea was an option, she could enter his dream; dissipate it like she did when he fell into the Fade-dream. The Commander deserved a peaceful rest, without past hurt biting his heels.

Pulling her flat shoes off before entering the restless Commander's bed. The covers pleasantly warm from his body heat. Laying opposite of him, careful not to wake him – lest they have a repeat from their sleep over back at Haven.

Calming herself despite his jerky fits, going into her meditative state. Willing herself to sleep. Pulling on their familiar connection. Touching the tendrils that belonged to the Commander. Walking herself through his sharp pains and emotions from his dream. Seeing herself there. With him. Within his mind, his dream. Her mind-tendrils forming space. Opening her mind's eye; seeing the dream.

_What the fuck…_

The sky was an angry red, thundering menacingly. Red lyrium seething, cracking, beating abusively from the ground.

Feeling the Commander's dream-pull, she rushed to him.

He was fighting monstrous contortions of red templars while he himself as turning into one. Striking the last one, red crystal blood spraying. The Commander himself screamed in agony.

"Cullen!"

Shocked filled eyes glowed at her. Backing away from her.

"No! Don't!"

Stopping a few feet from the frightened Commander. Ignoring the bodies, well, false bodies of the dead red templars.

Raising her left hand in peace, "It's alright Cullen."

"No, don't come near me! I'll hurt you." Panic in his voice, pure fear.

Shaking her head at him, "No, you won't. But I need you to listen to me."

"I will! Just like they will hurt you. Take you away from me."

Getting annoyed at his thick-headedness, she opted for her best authoritative tone and said, "As your Inquisitor I command you to listen Commander. That's an order."

She saw him visibly flinch before rapping at attention.

"Now that I have your attention Cullen. I, firstly, need you to calm down, and please, don't make me have that as an order too. Secondly, you need to know that this is a dream. Well, technically a nightmare, but a dream none-the-less."

"I – how –"

Waving her hand in dismissal, "Before I explain further… I think a change in scenery is called for."

Walking up to the shaken Commander fearlessly, taking his hand in her's. Languidly closing and opening her eyes, breathing slowly. Pushing herself out into the dream-space. In a wave of energy, blasting the nightmare scene away, dissolving it. The Commander cried out in shock at the influx, but remained still.

Replacing the nightmare, with a calm serene landscape plucked from her picture memory.

Tall, mighty trees; crisp, green grass; lazy, wide flowing river; a bright sky and sun; the soft chirping of birds and buzzing of cicadas; and behind her was the cave that overlooked the river, the forest, and clay-red foothills.

Sighing happily, "That's better. Don't you think so Cullen?" Letting go of his shaking hand to regard him. In her attempt to change the scenery, she turned the dream representation of Cullen back into his usual self. Still sporting his surprise look.

"You… you said this was a dream." Whispering softly to her.

"Technically this place is real, outside the dream I mean. Beats whatever you were dreaming of."

"Ah, yes. I suppose your right." His face turning to something from the 'sad' category, "Are you really here with me?"

"Pretty much. I was coming to see you after I… worked through _that_." Referencing the letter from that morning, "I know how much of a worrier you can be especially. I noticed you were having a bad dream, so I… wanted to give you a good one for a change."

His face went into the 'fear' category, "Your… physically in my room."

Shrugging her shoulders, "Specifically your bed. Why? Is something wrong?"

Seeing his throat tighten from swallowing hard, a flush creeping on his bare chest and cheeks. "N-no. Nothing's wrong. Just… why couldn't you have waited until morning to see me? And why, pray tell, prompted you to be in my bed?"

Arching her brows at the strange Commander, "Ah, it was technically after midnight, therefore morning, and I know that you don't sleep much anyway. When I saw you were having a bad dream, I couldn't fall asleep on the floor."

"Oh. Ah…" Stopping himself and clearing his throat. "I suppose not."

"You're a rather strange man. But that's alright, wouldn't be you otherwise."

Cullen was about to say something when she turned and walked with familiarity to a rock formation near the mouth of the cave and pulled herself up to sit. Petting the area next to her for him. Hoping that he would. Happy that, in a way, they were having some alone time. Even if it was within a dreamscape. Katja saw his throat tighten a little before slowly approaching her only to stop in horrid realization.

"Maker's Breath I'm so sorry!" Placing his hands over his groin.

Katja looked at him funny, "What? Is something wrong?"

"Why am I naked?!" His red flush ghosting his entire body.

He really was weird, but adorable to her. "Your naked physically aren't you? We'll that's why." Shrugging at the explanation. Not getting why he was suddenly so stand-of-ish.

"Maker's Breath!" Swearing under his teeth.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Cullen. But…" Using her dream-pull on her. Hoping that he would be less skittish. "That's better. Now we are the same. Come sit next to me and enjoy the scenery."

Only, he wasn't coming to her. She cocked her brows at his reaction to her nudity. His bronze eyes were wide and his mouth agape. Katja chuckled – he looked like a fish; a handsome fish. Jerking his eyes away from her.

Getting annoyed at him, "Commander come sit next to me and stop being weird."

Slowly looking back at her, his bronze eyes trying not to look lower. The flush pinkness still present on his cheeks and shoulders. Taking hesitant steps to her. Noticing a hard swallow in his throat. Finally taking the spot next to her. She could feel the nervous tension.

"Are you alright Cullen?" Worry ebbing within herself. It was just moments ago that he was having a nightmare before she came into the scene.

Clearing his throat, he responded, "I should be asking that of you. You weren't in a good state the last we saw each other." Not meeting her gaze; bronze eyes distant.

Arching her brow at him, "Don't deflect. I can feel your trembles. If you need some time –"

"No! It's just…" he sighed, "normal at this point. The bad dreams. I didn't expect this to happen."

"It's because of the lack of lyrium." She said observantly. "It'll end Cullen." Poking his arm with her elbow playfully, "Bad things end sooner or later."

For a long while, they stayed silent. Katja was enjoying sharing the space with him. The familiar, home environment with someone she cared for deeply. Noticing that the Commander slowly becoming relaxed. Looking out at the peaceful landscape painted from her clear memory.

"You said that this place is real outside the dream." He asked quietly, calmly.

She nodded, "Yeah. We are near one of the rivers that flow from the Frostbacks. We are within the red foothills. I have other such hide-away places but this is my favorite. No one lives here for miles around."

"It's really nice." Noticing that he took his left hand to rub his neck before returning it to his position in his lap. Covering his groin.

"Every day, Cullen."

"Your… happy here?"

"Before pre-death-in-the-sky, yes. The best time to come is in the summer. The river is really refreshing during a midnight-swim. And autumn during sunrise and there is fog rolling around."

Cullen was quiet before speaking again, "I grew up near a lake near such a river, in a small fishing village called Honnleath."

"You did?" Surprise at the coincidence, "I know where Honnleath is. Though I haven't had the pleasure of setting foot in the village since I was eleven. We're, oh, roughly twenty-five miles north-west."

"You've visited Honnleath before?"

"Well… I knew of its existence at eleven, but I was skittish of entering villages or any settlements until I was older. It wasn't the village I was afraid of, it was the frequent influx of templars. I was an apostate. A run-away. I was sixteen when I gathered the courage to do that, before the Blight."

Cullen began chuckling. Katja raised her brows at him.

"I find it rather strange that we never ran into each other despite being close. Did you talk to anyone in the village?"

"I did as a matter of fact. The man was such a prude though. I went to the wharf to see the fishing boats when this older man came up to me wanting to know if I was looking for work as an apprentice. He said his son was a templar and he was looking for a shipmate. I told him I was passing through."

"Really? What did he look like?"

Curious as to why he was asking about a random fisherman from her trip, she recanted his description, "He was medium height, well-built, sported a grey goatee, with curly, sandy blonde hair that tied in a red knot, and a scar that ran on his right eye. That eye was blue from blindness. Why?"

Cullen's mouth gaped, "That was my father!"

Blinking rapidly, picturing the fisherman next to Cullen, comparing. Laughing at the coincidence. "You certainly take after him then."

He grinned, shaking his head at the possibility, "A strange fate. To be close physically back then, but we never saw each other." Shaking his head at a different thought, a little bit of sadness, "Though, even if we did, I probably don't remember. I don't have many memories from that time – the lyrium."

Katja cocked her head, "Well, you left for templar training at thirteen and I was eight – still in the Ostwick Circle."

"Yes, that is true. But there were times where we were allowed to visit family until eighteen when we took our vigil. I'm just surprised we hadn't meet, even if it would be briefly."

A nagging feeling welled within Katja's stomach. A bottomless sense of dread over what could have been. Over what she could have done if they ever would have meet when she was that young and angry. The thought sickened her.

Clasping his slack palm with her's, not meeting his eyes, "Thank the Maker Cullen, that we didn't. You… would not have liked me then." Shame bubbling within her conscience.

"I find that hard to believe. It would have been hard to not notice you." His flush had returned to his cheeks and shoulders.

I was meant to sound comforting, but it only made her flinch. Remembering what she was. What she can no longer be. Folding her arms around herself, looking away.

"No Cullen, believe me, I would have absolutely hated you. I would not see you as you are."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Woot! Thank you atomratte, Elmo34, and Knifeinthedarkness for the fav/follows! Thank you Rae for reviewing again, and yes, they would have adorable dates. Also saqqara08; wait no longer for her reaction!

Ugh. This chapter was a pain to write. But, like I said; I will write with kicking, screaming and artistic discipline. I have so many artistic ideas bouncing in my head it's hard to concentrate. I go back and forth drawing and writing.

As a side note: Cullen is a closet pervert. :)

If anyone else has guessed, some social etiquette that would be considered embarrassing, Katja is immune to. She is all 'What?' Simply because she didn't get hounded with social mores for the majority of her life. Which includes the importance of wearing clothes. She wears them because of either a) she's cold; b) protection from attack; or, c) Josephine's ire of not wearing a style to impress incoming dignitaries.


	14. Lookin' Out My Back Door

Chapter 13: Lookin' Out My Back Door

The young man rode languidly through the forest. Listening peacefully to the birds and gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. Wanting to remember the sights and sounds before finally departing to his first station. A brief two week leave to see his family. His vigil was coming soon. Excitement that his dream was going to come to fruition. Also a mourning loss of leaving his home behind as his future was ahead of him.

All the years of training and dedication was leading up to his eventual knighthood into the Order. Not bad for being the youngest child of a fisherman.

Wearing plain clothes instead of his recruit armor. Along with his recruit sword belted at his hip.

He honestly didn't think he would miss it – his home. The sleepy, small village atmosphere surrounded by forest, nestled on the shore of a lake, and between the forks of two rivers. The forest that he was riding into was still wild despite the village's presence. Strange stories and superstitions kept most villagers away. Which is why they hardly hunted in the woods. Despite that, he still wanted to remember it.

Several miles out of his hometown of Honnleath. Riding his family's horse Daren beside the river north-west.

It was before noon before something strange caught his eye in an empty glade in front of him. Weary and curious, he guided his horse into the trees and strapped his rein to a tree before venturing further. Walking quietly until he had a better view of what it was he saw. Hiding himself within the thicket of tight trees and overgrown bushes.

It was a little girl. A naked, filthy little girl. She looked like she was around the age of 13. Judging from her short, lanky stature; small mounds; a faint dusking of hair on her pubis; and the scattering of pimples on her oval face.

_What in Andraste's name… Why is a child by herself in these woods?_

She was busy grinding something within a wooden bowl between her thin legs. Humming softly. Her wild brown hair sporting a collection of leaves and twigs; cascading down the length of her back. A dagger strapped to her back. The make was regal looking and expensive; something a noble would commission.

"Ah. Good its ready." He faintly heard her say.

Just then a large, mountain of a brown bear came into view. Heading straight for the little girl. He was about to jump out to defend her from the wild animal when she giggled.

"There you are Teddy!" She said excitedly, jumping up, "I was worried. Oh no! You have an arrow in you!" Running as fast as she could on her thin legs to the beast.

The bear bellowed pitifully while she petted the beast's massive in comfort. "Don't worry I can fix that."

In a second, the bear howled loudly and he saw an arrow being thrown away. A dim green glow ignited where the girl was. "All better." The girl said as she climbed on the bear's back. Tossing the dagger she had strapped to her back to the ground. "Now, it's time for a bath. To the river!" She shouted as the bear bellowed and charged into the river. The girl dived off the bear's back when it was submerged far enough into the river. Making a loud splash while shouting 'Whoo-hoo!'

_Andraste… she's… she's a mage. An apostate._

Solid fear coursed within him. He'd heard stories from his templar friends and mentors of the dangers of meeting an apostate. They were unlike Circle mages. They had abilities and untapped potential they didn't have.

_But she's just a little girl. Within the first years of becoming a woman._

The young man watched the girl play briefly with the bear in the river while reciting her version of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair.'

Conflicted feelings bubbled within his breast. On one hand: He saw a little girl – a defenseless, innocent little girl. Naked and alone in the forest. On the other: A mage, an apostate. He was a templar. Well, not yet, but soon! It was his duty to protect the world from magic and that included mages. What was the point of being a templar if he didn't do that? He'd be a failure that's what! He didn't go through all those years of training to forgo his duty because he seen a mage that was a little girl! She belonged in a Circle! Safe! Little girls needed to be safe! Especially little mage girls!

_But she isn't defenseless is she? _His inner-templar voice told him, _You see her power over that bear. In an instant she could have it attack you. Use her magic on you as well._

_Not if she doesn't see me as a threat. _Internally countering, _I mean her no harm. I want her to be safe. She's a little girl. Alone._

During the young man's clashing thoughts the girl had finished her bath in the river. He blinked in surprise. Her hair had turned moon white.

"That's better. Glad I got that dye out of my hair. It was getting stinky! Pee-_yew_! And I got lunch!" She excitedly exclaimed as she lifted up a large trout the size of her arm.

The soaked bear bellowed at the fish. "No! Get your own. This is _my_ lunch." The bear moaned pitifully before returning to the river.

"Maker your such a _bear_. Ha! Ha-ha-ha!" Laughing at her own joke.

The trout squirmed and thrashed, it's fin slapping her face before dropping to the ground. Turning red from embarrassment, sporting a rather perturbed expression. "Hey fish, what's the opposite of water? FIRE!" She shouted while using her mana to spray the fish in a torrent of flames from her hands. Putting out the flames that had cooked the fish, killing it. "Stupid fish." She said huffily while grabbing the fish off the ground by the tail.

Walking stiffly to where she put her dagger, plopping herself on the ground cross-legged. Unsheathing the blade, using it to gut the fish. Sheathing it and wrapping the holster around her torso. Her small hand reaching in to pull the guts out – tossing them away. Grabbing a random stick from the ground she inserted it into the mouth.

"Aaaand… out the butthole!" She exclaimed at the same time piercing it through the other side. "Never knew fish can poo sticks. Ha-_ha_!"

Using her free hand she casted, from his observation, a small fire spell to finish cooking the fish. All the while humming happily at her task. Satisfied, she began eating the fish.

The boy-about-to-turn-man sighed heavily.

"Well, what do we have here?" A cooing, feminine voice said behind him.

Twisting quickly to see the intruder, drawing his sword. "Who are you?"

It was a woman. She was wearing a red leather outfit. Her eyes were bright gold and wrinkles on her eyes that signaled age. Her hair snow white and protruded horns from her head.

Witch.

She laughed haughtily. "I could say the same for you boy. Do you like watching young girls?"

He was about to attack when invisible hands tightened and constricted around his body – disabling his movements. His heart beating frantically at inflicted helplessness. Physical struggles against his weaved hold proved fruitless.

"How rude. Going to attack an old woman?"

A clear, child-like voice rang across the trees, "Who's out there! I can sense you! Come out and face me!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the little girl in a battle stance with glowing twin daggers rippling out from her hands. Looking at their direction. Her bear companion was beside her bellowing at them as well.

The witch 'tisked' while smiling, "Such a delightful child. She's learning fast." Her gold eyes fixed on the girl. He could see the witch's mana surge.

"Don't hurt her!" He shouted before the invisible hands clenched his mouth shut. Protests were muffled as he renewed his pointless efforts to free himself.

The girl looked uncertain for just a second before deciding that fleeing was a better option. Dissolving her glowing twin daggers and climbing on the bear's back – riding away in the opposite direction into the forest.

The witch's mana dissipated as the little girl was swallowed by the tightly spaced trees and thicket. The bears loud steps and pants grew fainter and fainter.

Gold eyes from the witch rapt at attention at him, "What made you believe that I would harm _da'len_? Doesn't matter anyway. But, what a conundrum, whatever am I to do with _you_?" Crossing her slender arms and looking at him thoughtfully. She noticed his templar recruit sword in his hand. "Now this is surprising. A young templar? How strange that you wanted to protect that mage child."

The almost-man snarled at her, his mouth still tightly shut from the invisible hands she casted on him.

She cackled at him, amused at his efforts, "The fire of the young. Very nice. Now, what should the consequence for your unfortunate prying be? The easiest solution is to just kill you. But you see, you are a templar, therefore you're absence will be noted by the Order. They will investigate your disappearance and come sniffing in the area. That I cannot allow – it's for _da'len_ that I must avoid that.

"Letting you go as you are is out of the question. No doubt you will bring friends along to see the Witch and the Child of the forest.

"I could take you with me. Turn you into a personal thrall." She turned his head from side to side to inspect it affectionately, "You seem to be of a good stock to produce a daughter with me. However, I have no need for one. Sadly. And I have the same problem as the first option.

"I am leaning toward the fourth option. Though it will be very… _unpleasant_ for you. Don't worry though. You won't remember."

The young man turned his face in disgust and fear. Shouting at himself for his weakness. Of how much of a pathetic templar he is. Helpless as the witch lifted her left palm, her long-nailed small finger touching his temple – barely piercing the skin.

The touch turned into a thum, which turned into a loud hum, which turned into all out searing pain. His skull feeling as though it was being cracked and split by a mace. Crunching his face in pain. Unable to scream the red hot sensation burned away all other impulses. As quick as the pain came, it receded. The young man rolled his eyes – stupefied. The magical hold on his limbs released their hold. His body slack and relaxed.

He didn't realize that the witch's curved nail had gathered a single droplet of his blood. Pooling patiently on the free edge of the cuticle.

The witch grinned, "Go to your horse and then go home." She softly said to him.

Obediently, he lifted his feet and headed back in the direction of his horse.

Once he was gone from her sight the witch lifted her little finger that had the droplet of his blood and licked it off. Absorbing it within herself.

"Perhaps some other time Cullen Rutherford."

* * *

The frightened girl clutched the fur back of her bear friend who was galloping away. Tendrils of fear creeping within her bones. The Veil-pull of whatever it was within the forest gave her a fright. Normally she would have defended herself against an intruder, but with a pull that strong she wasn't going to risk being dead. When she felt safe enough, she commanded Teddy to slow down to a gentle pace. Acute paranoia sat nicely within her mind. She wasn't going to feel safe until she was within the borders of her secluded cave. It was nightfall before the cave came into view. Her peaceful wolf friends howling at her arrival. Feeling their minds – their impulses of excitement of her passing washed through her.

Pack. Alpha. Good scent. Safety.

Jumping off the high back of Teddy the wolves smelt her and licked at her arms and face. Asserting her calm dominance over their minds. Panting and rolling onto their bellies in submission. Walking assertively to her home – one of her many homes. Her wolves and bear friend behind, following her steps.

Stretching happily to be within the safety of her cave. Letting the familiar smells go into her.

Her belly growled loudly. Chuckling at annoyance.

Going deeper within the cave, she produced a little light from her left finger to better illuminate the space. Her wolves and bear friend following her. Within there was a small antechamber that as designated as her space – her animal companions picking their spots within the room.

A straw mat that was covered with a faded purple blanket, a small two-shelf bookcase that held some said books along with some interesting items she liked such as really neat shaped rocks and shells, dozens of dried indigenous herbs hung from the walls, and a large trunk. Opening the trunk there were various food items that wouldn't spoil easy – dried meats and fruit, various nuts, and powdered flour and sugar. Along with a small caste iron pan.

Not really feeling like cooking anything, she grabbed two of the pieces of dried meat and ate quietly. Picking out one of the books that she had yet to read. Her little werelight providing enough illumination. Allowing some of the wolves to wrap themselves around her legs for warmth. Taking Cat's Tooth off her back and leaning it against the wall beside her.

Folk Customs and Superstitions: The Mysteries of the Womanly Form by Sister Travana a Chantry Scholar.

It wasn't her first choice in reading material. However she found it one day walking within this forest. Much preferring the exciting tales of the Avvar-Mother, the Legend of the Juggernaut, and Tales of Kaddis: The Mabari Against Darkspawn. Unfortunately, she was running out of chapters to memorize for those.

A few chapters in she read an interesting chapter an Avvar ritual to help budding young girls grow their breasts.

_It is worthy of note that all young girls that have experienced their first moon blood are taken to a secluded and often would be considered sacred place at night on the full of the moon. Whether it would be a glade, a mountain, or lake. These places would be connected to one of their gods of fertility. The young girls are led by the elder women of the village and given full initiation rites depending on the custom of the village. The girls are then stripped of their clothes and are to 'moon bathe'. Where they allow the glow of the full moon to come into contact with their breasts and feminine parts._

_It is believed that the moon is responsible for a woman's growth and maturity. As is the sun helps to fertilize plants – the moon fertilizes a woman._

A question budded within the girl's mind: What is moon blood?

_Maybe the moon bleeds during the ritual? But, it said a woman experiences moon blood._ Sighing, the girl read further but the book offered no other explanation as to what 'moon blood' is. _How is it that the moon does that?_

Curious, she remembered that tonight coincidently had a full moon peak. Looking and poking her small, non-existent breasts. Knowing that women had fleshy balls that jut out from their chests. It was the same eerie feeling and small (curious) disgust when, it seemed overnight, that she found grey hair on her crouch and armpits; along with puss-filled bumps on her face.

Memories of being made fun of by older girls that developed these 'breasts'. They were her age when they flaunted their development and boys would stare at them. Along with their fake painted faces to hide their puss bumps. Delicate lace and silk dresses, social gatherings with tea and cakes, intricately woven hair, gossip of which boy to marry, and prettily painted mouths that mocked when they giggled.

Fuck that.

Scratching one of her wolves' heads in contemplation.

_Couldn't hurt to try some 'moon bathing'._

Disturbing her furry companions as she got up, making her way a little further into the cave. Her little werelight bouncing merrily. Finding the vent that led upwards to the top of the cave, she began her all too familiar climb. Hands and feet familiar with the rocks. Dousing her werelight as she approached the mouth of the vent. Pulling herself up one last time and standing up. Gazing happily at the clear stars and the full moon. Her elevation level with the tall trees.

Bending herself down and sprawling lazily on the stone hill. Shooting curious thoughts at the open full moon. Sending her consciousness across the landscape she could detect no other life forms except the herd of rams on the other side of the hill. Content on her peaceful loneliness.

_I wonder how long it will take before I get teats_. Poking at the flesh and squeezing them. _Not yet_.

Not knowing what to expect exactly. Do they just… pop out like gophers? Like _poof!_ Or, Inflate like a ball? Does this process have to be repeated? Leaning to the possibility that it would be like a ball, considering that she seen teats bounce up and down before.

The thought that it would be anything like animal teats was out of the question. She helped wolf pups nurse at the mother's teats. They had like… six nipples, therefore six boobs. And she'd never seen a female grow teats unless they had a litter developing in their tummies. Do teats have something to do with babies? Must be. When babies suck on them she's seen this white milky fluid come out.

But… _people_ teats happen even if there are no babies involved. Perhaps it's normal.

Dismissing the wondering thoughts, sighing at the unanswered questions. She was going to wait for the impromptu growth of her teats to burst from her chest. Before then, she was going to play a game of chess in her head.

Her thoughts wondered until she fell asleep in the quiet night. Dreams silent.

Waking up in her side at the dawn. The gold glow radiated on the rocks and trees. Yawning sleepily and stretching. Her tummy hurt from the action. Feeling ickyness between her legs. Alarmed she raised herself to see what was wrong.

Paralyzing, gut retching fear seized her mind. Her groin was bleeding! Too much like _that time_. The profuse stabbing pain.

_"Please stop it hurts!"_ Split in two. Heart and lungs tearing. Hot, wet tears flowing down round cheeks. Filthy cloth in her mouth to stop unheard cries. Angry hands holding down tiny wrists – grasping, clawing for respite. Panting, gasping grunts in time with the stabbing pain.

"No! Never again!" Unwashed tears down her face as the piercing, unclean memory repeated itself in her mind. Clear as the days it occurred.

Panicking as she haphazardly climbed down the vent to the tunnel of the cave. Running into the antechamber to grab Cat's Tooth, unsheathing it. Making herself as small as possible as she huddled at the farthest corner of the cave. Her wolves and bear whimpering at her fear. Her fear was there's. huddling around her to form a barrier to her imagined intruder.

Never again. Never again. Never again.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

* * *

The sun awoke, peeking shyly from the corners of the mountains. Rising it's singular glowing eye on the landscape. Soft purple shadows and sleepy fog lingered stubbornly within the stones. The golden light peeking in the windows, asking the peaceful inhabitants to rise from the coos of sleep. Warming their bones.

One such pair languidly obeyed the call of sunrise. Her reddish eyes drifted from the safety of sleep. Focusing on the landscape in front of them.

She had spent the dream with the bodily landscape in front of her. His body sprawled, relaxed. The dips and curves of his well-trained muscles and breathers from the faint scars that spotted his skin. As her eyes focused more she could see little, faint dusking of freckles on his chest and shoulders. Thinking that is was a nice little treat from his pale skin. His dark pinkish nipples were pert from the coolness of the room. Wheat colored hair was in disarray – the curls wild and rebelling from its owners wishes of order. A similar trail of dusky, brown hair made a line from his chest downward to his groin. Seeing the beginnings of his curly pubis; a sandy brown color. The bed sheet preventing any further eye exploration. Though she could say the thin material did rise and fall nicely to make a generous outline.

_What a nice way to wake up._

Fighting the curious urge to taste the freckles on his lovely chest. Very much liking the affect it had on her tickling skin. Her nether region began the warm from morning desire. Taking notes on him while he was still asleep. Quietly inching just a little closer to his warm body until she was satisfied. She should smell the faint earthy aroma of dried thyme coming from his skin.

Cullen breathed heavily and his calm eyes furrowed. Lids opened to reveal liquid bronze eyes. They looked at her confusedly. After a moment a dusking of pink graced his cheeks and shoulders.

"Good morning Cullen." Katja said casually.

"You as well Inquisitor." He stated formally while covering his (already) covered groin with his hands.

Cocking her brows at his formalness. "You don't need to be so formal. At least, not this early in the morning."

He cleared his throat, "Yes… well… Please excuse my professional decorum then." After he said it his cheeks turned a little redder.

Doubting that he was in the 'anger' category, considering his normality of the ghosting of redness on his cheeks. Perhaps it was directed at himself. The way he said that… it sounded rather sardonic.

Chuckling at his unintentional sassiness, "Your 'professional decorum' is unneeded at the moment. Besides, we did just spend a couple hours talking in the dream. You can relax."

Sliding herself a little closer to him, laying her torso on top of his. Lazily looking at him. If anything the flush on his face and shoulders deepened and his body seized – looking wide eyed at her. Actually starting to like this reaction from him. Taking her right finger, she reached out and had the digit twirl around one of the Commander's wild locks. Remembering the sensation.

"You _do_ have curly hair. I like it." Affectingly saying to him.

His throat tightened as she heard him clear it. "Um… thank you?" Sporting a curious look on his face.

"You're welcome Cullen." Idly continuing to slowly twirl the curl.

The one hand of his that was not trapped under her came up to gently touch her twirling hand – clasping it. Gently pulling out of its teasing of the lock. Unfortunately at the last inch knotted itself and tied tightly around her digit. Bronze eyes darting from the imprisoned finger to her small smile.

"Seems your curls like my attention Cullen. What of you?" Memorizing the touch of his warm hand on hers. The little bumps of calluses and smooth skin.

His flush deepened. "You've been… very kind."

Katja nodded and pulled the knot free using her dexterous fingers. Setting the hand on his well-muscled shoulder; letting the warmth seep into her fingers. "You too Cullen." A shy question forming within her mind. Her uncertainty coming out, hoping she wasn't being too presumptuous. "Would it be alright if we… do this more often?"

Cullen giving her a curious look. Panicking a little she rambled, "It's just that… I've enjoyed this. I feel a little better with… that situation. If you are uncomfortable –"

"No! I don't mind speaking with you. Professional or casual. However, I may ask that I, ah, am properly attired next time."

"Oh, alright." Wonderful little wrappings of happiness cooing in her mind. Curious as to why he necessarily needed to be clothed to talk to her, but if he was consenting to speaking to her more casually she didn't think it would be a bad thing. "Maybe… over a game of chess?" Pushing her luck a little.

He grinned crookedly, "Yes. Same place in the garden?"

Nodding happily. "Perhaps the Commander will defeat me next time."

"I can certainly try."

Sporting a small challenging grin at him before lowering herself to lay at his side. Lazily soaking his bodily warmth. Eyes drifting to semi-awareness as they wondered over the Commander's pale skin she could see. Noticing his hand still trying to cover his groin though the bed sheet. Taking the same hand that twirled in his hair, lowered it to hold his hand.

His body stiffened at her movement, but didn't protest. Arching her brow. She felt his hardness he tried to contain within his palm. Mischievous desire soaked within her.

Forgoing his hand, she slipped under it, feeling and clasping his semi-hard manhood. He gasped at the contact, his hand wrapping around her wrist – feeling the little pulses on his finger tips. Sliding her hand up and down – wanting to remember the textures and heat. Katja's own heat throbbed like his. Swallowing hard at her flaring nerves – focusing on her touches; his own reactions. Hoping, praying that she was doing alright.

Cullen groaned softly and removed his hand. Grinning, she increased her exploration. Wrapping around his member's girth – feeling it up and down. From the soft, spongy head that was leaking pre-cum; down the hardening length – her fingertips feeling out the little veins that hummed loudly. Her hand cupping his heavy sack.

Cullen's breathing hitched and increased; moaning at the sensation. Spreading his muscled legs a little further. Grinning that her touches were bringing him pleasure. That she could give this to him.

Returning her hand to his fully erect member. Lifting her head to look at his face through her half-lidded ruby eyes. Sighing happily. Bronze eyes narrowed to slivers and his mouth opened just enough to allow him to breathe. The same flush he had was present; dusking his cheeks and shoulders. Little wells of pride and satisfaction blanketed her nervousness, allowing her to be more bold.

Running her thumb across the slit, earning her a slow groan to her ears. Feeling more of his pre-cum on the digit, rolling the fluid around the tip. Using her fingers to map around the head and glans. Shivers and caught moans as her reward. Her own groin becoming stifling and damp under her pants. Uncaring. Wanting to bring him to pleasure.

Increasing her speed and adding more pressure to her grip. Soon he was panting and moaning to her touch. Muscles tightening and his back arching. Undulating hips meeting her caresses. Sweat beading his brow. His curls becoming more wild from desire. Moaning at his pleasure. His hands clasping at her and the bed sheet.

_Yes_.

Kissing his tight neck. Licking at the sharp stubble on his jaw. Biting and kissing more roughly at the vulnerable neck – licking the area. Cullen hissed and groaned from her ministrations of her lips.

So caught up in what she was doing. That he allowed this from her.

Breathing out a loud moan before he released. Her hand catching his released seed. Hot and thick in her palm. Cullen's face calm and placid in the aftermath. Breathing heavy from his release. Bronze eyes dark.

Moaning loudly as she opened her eyes. Breathing heavily.

Oh that was so good. If only that encounter was anything like that.

Instead, they parted ways to put it bluntly. The sexual part didn't happen, even though she would have liked to have done that. Or anything else.

Josephine and Leliana paid her a joined visit that same morning, inquiring how she was doing. Thinking that they were worried as well from her actions the previous night from her parent's letter.

"I'm better. Josephine, could you… send them my reply? They can… come."

They both had smiles from her answer. "Right away Inquisitor."

A lot happened that day. Later, Varric's friend Hawke made a secret appearance. Her serious attitude about it had Katja pay attention. Giving her as much information as she could on Corypheus. The fact that he wasn't dead puzzled her. Something was going on with that and she intended to find out what.

Hawke would try to contact her Grey Warden friend and find out from him. Katja would have to wait until she sent word on this Grey Warden's location.

That afternoon a message was received from a man named Fairbanks in the Emerald Graves. Telling that he had information on the Red Templars and that only he would divulge the information to the Herald. Hoping that the information would help them on their enemies and Cullen's investigation into Samson. Scouts were sent and meeting adjourned.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Say hello to the new fav/followers NZTH and elleclarke88! Also reviewers bellabri287, Em, and of course, Rae. Who wouldn't be down for naughty Cully-Wully?

*_da'len_ is elvish for "child" but is also a term of endearment for one.

Ugh. Sorry it took me so long to write this out. I've been good on weekly updates but his one kinda dragged for me. It doesn't help that I decided to replay DA:I. Just to, ya know, keep the creative juices flowing. I wanted to give the readers an idea of their lives pre-death-in-the-sky. With a dash of coincidence! Haha!

And… I got a Tumblr account to post some of my naughty pics. :) It is a rated 'R' site, so you have to have an account to see the pics posted.

botticella89 . tumblr (.com)

or the blog:

tumblr (.com) /blog/botticella89


	15. Dragonborn

Chapter 14: Dragonborn  


"Hey Kitten I gotta question to ask you."

Katja gave Varric her attention while looking around the Emerald Graves. Maker, it's been years since she last returned here. A little sanctuary during the Blight. The wildlife was in full swing mid-morning – the calls of the nugs, hallas, and various birds in the towering trees. The warm, humid heat glowing within her bones.

They had stopped for a brief rest before continuing on their scouting mission and to quell the Freemen of the Dales's mischief. According to their contact Fairbanks, the Freemen have been trading with the Red templars within the area. Time to disrupt that.

"Got a thing for a certain illustrious Commander?"

Cocking her brow, "Why do you ask Varric?"

"Just curious. I've noticed the little glances you two give each other."

"What glances?"

"He means if you two have gone at it or not." Dorian interjected.

"Gone at what?"

"Oh for fucks sake. Have you two fucked or not?" Bull cut in.

"No."

"What do you mean _'no'_? With those affectionate looks you two give each other we were sure –"

She shrugged her shoulders at her three companions, "Well we haven't. I don't even know _how_ to make an affectionate look."

Hearing silence from their direction, she turned her head at them. All sporting a similar wide-eyed look at her. "I don't have one of those weird bugs on me do I?"

"Well, Varric, to be fair most of those looks are coming off the Commander." Dorian said absentmindedly to the dwarf.

Cocking her head at her friend's weirdness at her, "What are you guys talking about?"

"Boss be really honest with us: Can you read faces?"

Sighing heavily and slouching her shoulders, "Not very well. I'm better than I once was though." Clasping her hands in a little bit of embarrassment.

Varric suddenly barked in laughter, "No wonder you have a great Wicked Grace face! But, holy shit you have missed out."

"You're gonna need to explain what exactly I have missed out on."

He snorted softly before continuing, "Well, first off you've missed some big hints that the Commander is crazy in puppy-love with you. And if he was any more into his puppy-love he would be worshiping you like an Andraste idol."

That surprised her. He really did have feelings for her? She got that he had a desire for her based on what happened in the alternate future with Red Cullen. Annoyed at herself that she had missed these 'big hints' as Varric said. Never more angry at her lack of social and facial skills. Wanting to see and feel out where her own desires were going before testing some uncharted territory with the Commander. If truth be told, she was uncertain that this present-Cullen had those same feelings as the alternate-Cullen. So many things were different than that alternate future from Alexius's time magic.

It was different than her past lovers. They would have sex and part ways after one night. No emotional strings wrapping her mind.

With him though, she wanted the sex most defiantly, but wanted something a little deeper than _just_ the sex. Not liking the notion of a one-sided love affair if he didn't share similar passion for her as she for him. It didn't stop her mind from wondering during long silences during their journey. Or passionate mind-visions in her bedroll at night.

_I don't even understand romance enough to try._

Those nights of her investigation at Herald's Rest were good, but not enough that she was confident of her understanding. And Varric's book _Swords and Shields_ was just plain smut.

"Boss please tell me you've at least noticed this enthusiasm when you assign him a mission. Ya know, eager to please attitude."

"He's being thorough isn't he? Cullen wants the Inquisition to succeed, right?"

Bull rolled on the ground and Varric and Dorian put their hands to their respected heads. All three groaned loudly.

"Andraste's teats!" Varric moaned out.

"Your partially right. Though that _partially_ is tiny." Dorian sighed.

"I knew you didn't have much of a social life before the Inquisition but this lack of social interaction is astounding Kitten."

Furrowing her brows in irritation, "I did socially interact, but not with… other people."

"And let me guess, socially interacting with spirits is different enough to where you are blinded to socializing with people right?"

"I… had little reason to interact with people once I became an apostate at a young age. I have to remind myself that I am out of the Fade and I can't project my thoughts into the landscape. I often wonder if what I am saying means anything or even if I'm understood. Or if I understand. I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Not at all," Dorian assured, "However you should know that the Commander is interested. You should hear the rumors and gossip people say."

Katja was quiet before she spoke, "How do you know he is? You might be misreading him."

"Boss, I can tell you from my Ben-Hassrath training that he is interested. I've only seen him give you those soft eyed looks."

"And soft eyed looks are a symptom of infatuation?"

Bull and the other two nodded.

"You've all given me something to consider."

Though there wasn't much for her to consider. If he truly did share similar feelings then she would have to speak to him once she returned to Skyhold.

Running through some of the encounters within her picture memory with the Commander. Inverted eyes. Clasping his sword hilt. Rubbing his neck. The flushing. Comparing his self around others with his mannerisms with her. He did seem… different. Less certain maybe? Especially the flushing. He would have that reaction the closer she was to his person.

_Is this a reaction of desire again?_

It was like a metal that got heated during forging. A normal steel color turning a cherry red. Sex produced heat. Maybe it was the beginnings of his desire flaring that he flushes. He was never angry with her at all!

"That's why he flushes!"

"Huh? What was that Boss?"

"Nothing. Just realized something."

A few days in they've managed to stop the trade with the red templars and the Freemen and kill the respected leaders of the rebel group. Hooray for the Inquisition! She was delighted to find some information on where the templars were getting the red lyrium from. Happy for the opportunity to give something to the Commander on her return to Skyhold.

Around the fire of one of their Inquisition camps a question was asked from Dorian, "Just curious, how do we actually plan on taking out Corypheus?"

She answered sardonically but now it plagued her mind in her tent.

Seeing the pieces in her mind; movements made. When to move and to strike. They needed an equalizer. That extra piece on the board. They were the undermabari's in this game of chess.

_What does Corypheus have that we don't?_

Besides the mutations from red lyrium? Out of the question. They had and army – a growing one for both of them. They have a network politically – even if his was more subtle. Got spies too.

_I have other's that has my back and loyalty. Who will not fail me nor I them. That's a difference._

Corypheus wasn't being that attentive in his goal of godhood when it came to his allies. They were making a lot of noise when it came to removing the pawns in their war-game.

Dragon. He has a dragon.

_Of course! That dragon of his can obliterate us or at least be costly to face._

She didn't believe that dragon was a archdemon like some of the other's believe. Rather it was something different altogether. It could be that it was a normal dragon at one point when Corypheus tainted it with the Blight or the red lyrium. That was her suspicion anyway. Judging from the beasts conscious tendrils.

_I need a dragon._

Katja was a mage with the ability to commune with beasts. Dragons were beasts, very intelligent and wily beasts. However, no more beast than people were – some people.

_I need to convince a dragon to be a companion to me. This way we'll be on a more level ground incase that dragon attacks us._

There was a problem: She has never had a dragon submit to her.

She had prodded the minds of them but never to the extent where she tried to have them submit. There was always a certain level of danger to them that she was weary of. One wrong move and she'll be eaten whole. Their minds would have to merge for a time and she would have to allow their instincts to swallow her before her assertion. She would be a dragon for a time.

There was talk from the scouts of a possible dragon to the north of the Emerald Graves but the reports were varied.

Acquiring a few hours rest before leaving the camp in the middle of the night. From her observation of the moon it was going to be dawn in a few hours. However leaving the camp without at least notifying them of her solo departure was not a good idea. Wanting to give them some reassurance, she wrote a small note within her tent. In the back of her mind she could hear Cullen's reprimands that she shouldn't go alone. Well, he did do that once way back when Haven was still around.

_I am strong on my own Cullen. This way, my friends won't get hurt by accident. Too many threats._

With calm confidence with her silent steps the darkness of the forest swallowed her. Leaving behind the soft and safe snores of her companions. Sneaking around the night guard.

_It has been too long since I was a singular entity in the void of the world. Just me and the calm nothingness of the natural state._

It had begun to drizzle lightly. Just enough to mist but not enough to cover the light of the moon. Allowing to taste the fresh water gathering around her lips. The crickets, cicadas, and frogs played their night tunes along with the hoot from an owl. The wind tickling the leaves on the trees. Opening her senses to gather for any danger. The reduction of the Freemen and the red templars have rendered the Emerald Graves silent.

Her walk was mostly uneventful until she spotted several eaten brontos. Inspecting them with a produced werelight she saw large teeth marks and frost burns. Dragon alright. One that deals cold-fire. They were relatively old, probably from the previous day. Getting closer.

Continuing forward. The beginnings of dawn were upon the landscape. The dark blues of night turning to a purple-grey hue. Eating dried meat and a wedge of cheese while she kept her senses alert.

Excited when she heard a distant roar.

Seeing more and more corpses of large animals. Giants, brontos and great bears.

Her heart fluttering when the shadow of the magnificent beast flew over head. Her mighty roar shaking the ground. Feeling the vast dominance of her mind fighting on Katja's. Battle singing desire pounded her veins, chorusing her muscles to readiness. Letting the dragon's impulses run into her mind and blood. Feeling more like a dragon.

Prove dominance. Master of the hunt. Worthy submission. Gain territory. Mate. Clutch. Flesh smell. Opponent. Invader. Adversary.

Must assert her will. Dominate. Fight. Tooth and claw. Light-bender claws. Gain fight as one. Two solitudes as one power.

Katja's senses began to sharpen and hues became more intense. The musky, earthy smell of the forest; hearing the hooves of the hallas hundreds of yards away; the lingering blood within her mouth from the dried meat from earlier; and the soft prickles of air around her skin.

Her future-joined-partner-of-the-skies came down in a gust of wind from powerful wings. Roaring at her in defiance. Prove. Worthy. Fight.

Her hands became claws of her energy and light. Hurling toward each other. The scraping of claws and hiss and roar of pain and frustration. The blood within her mouth causing a maddening frenzy, drowning out senses of desperation. It was just her and the battle melody of her future-joined-partner-of-the-skies. Uncaring of the tired and exhausted pains within her limbs. Needing, wanting victory. Loud hums of joy and madness cooing her mind.

With one final blow to the partner-of-the-skies, backing, slashing light claw on face.

Whimper. Proven. This one is yours.

Pressing. Surrounding. Dominating.

Losing her skin. Drowning within the deep melodies of the ethereal beast. They were one.

They breathed – tasting joy. Ambient heat within their bellies. Wanting, needing release.

Ravaging hunger gnawing like teeth on flesh. Food. Eat. Prey.

Nostrils flaring. Smell the air. Thick-skin-long-hard-nose near. Good.

Two-leg-partner-of-the-earth placing on their plated-skin neck. Their wings lifting their flesh to the space-above-earth. Their call to the space-within-earth as they ascended.

_We will hunt!_ They shouted.

Finding. Stalking. Killing.

Fire-cold-breath from maw and wing-not-wing. Teeth on flesh of thick-skin-long-hard-nose. No more. They have prey that no longer breathes. Two-leg-partner-of-the-earth beside Wing-partner-of-the-sky. Eating prey. No more hunger. Sweet taste of the kill. Meat rich and delicious. Two more for satisfaction.

Territory maintain. Preserve. Lifting high in space-above-earth. Strange smells. Deep seeded corded angry two-legs. Danger. Unwelcome.

Watching high. Finding. Kill. Their hard-shine-flesh hurts teeth. Bright infection with mind-madness. Not for eating. Strange roars from maws. Knowing two-leg-sounds-from-maw but cannot understand them. Lay dead. Good. Anger from two-leg-partner-of-the-earth on red-two-legs. Cannot remember why. Hurt. Enemy. Perish.

Go to place-where-we-nest. Under the earth. Dark and safe. Eggs safe. No harm. Males wanting for breeding. Males gathering around wing-partner-of-the-sky. Smell her heat. Eggs inside ready. Males not for two-leg-partner-of-the-earth. That one needs mate. Needs a brood-mate.

Two-leg that has yellow-wild-tuffs on head. Desirable trait. Eyes that are bright-earth; soft and fierce. Maw that roars-sound-from is pleased when connects with own – victory-scar tasty when licked. Protector in hard-shine-flesh-that-not-flesh. Flesh-that-is hard and male – hot and easy to touch. Smell of hard-flesh-of-prey-food and pungent sweet-flesh-from-prey-food. The smell cools wounds and hard-twist-breath in the chest.

Thinking, knowing this is mate for her. Seen this one but cannot remember where.

Heat within her stirs like fire from within the earth. Not liking skin-that-isn't-skin on her. Clawing it off. This one she needs. Perfect brood-mate. Hearing a sound-from-maw that is important but cannot remember what. Male-that-is-called-by.

Brood-mate-for-two-legs takes his not-legs to have her submit. She is eager, wanting, desiring. Her place-where-eggs-grow hot and moist for his flesh-that-enters. Long, hard and wanting. Within her they are one – pushing in and out – making her mew and cry with heat. His calls deep and reverberating within her skin. Clashing, merging skin. Uncontained sparks release; his maleness granting a part of himself within her.

"Cul… len." The call-from-maw came out. Male-that-is-called-by.

What was a 'Cullen'? Need. Hunt this one 'Cullen'.

* * *

"What do you mean you've lost her?!"

The Commander shouted at the three companions that accompanied her to the Emerald Graves. It was a week ago that they – namely Varric – sent a report stating:

_Kitten has left the camp in search of a fucking dragon! We can't find her anywhere in this damn forest. Scout Harding needs more support to comb the area. _

So he trekked as hard and fast as he could with the other commanders, companions, and as many soldiers as they could to the Emerald Graves. Truth be told, he thought the number was dim in what he screamed at himself of what was needed.

So, they've all rendezvous within one of the scout tents with all the commanders, companions, and scout Harding.

"Do you know how hard it is to keep track of a flying lizard in this vast forest Commander?!" Varric was getting just as worried and agitated.

"And what, pray tell, prompted her to think of _getting_ a dragon?"

"Well, here's the generous note she left for us the next morning."

Varric handed him the hastily folded paper and he almost snatched it from the dwarf's hand.

_I'm going to search for a dragon. I've been thinking that would give us an edge on Corypheus incase he attacks us. I'll be back when I'm able._

"That's not helpful at all!"

Even more worry gnawed within the Commander. More itching paranoia from both the withdrawal and fitful distress. Biting, itching, clawing doubt crawling within his mind. His stupidity and unfit commander abilities led her to make such a drastic move. The Skyhold fortifications were not enough. All the soldiers training were not enough. All the tedious routines and drills were not enough. It all was not enough! He was _not enough_!

_She is dead! I never told her and she is dead! All because I wasn't enough!_

"We know that Commander. Scouts have been combing the area with a fine-tooth comb and they've made progress – the dragon's nesting site to the far north. The report came in this morning before your arrival. You'll be happy to know that the scouts say she, the Inquisitor, is unharmed." Scout Harding reported with a little less irritation.

"What was she doing? Have they made contact with her?"

"Do you honestly think the scouts would willingly go _into_ dragon territory? No, they've used a seeing scope and kept a safe distance away. I've told them to keep an eye on them and to hold the position until our arrival."

_She's not dead._

"Thank the Maker." Josephine sighed out.

"I knew she had abilities with lesser beasts but a _dragon_… that is an edge on Corypheus." For Leliana to sound surprised took great effort.

"There's more," Scout Harding began, "she and her dragon have been, well, attacking our scouts and the remaining red templars and Freemen. Twice at our camps. However, I should say that she more than likely caused a fuss when she came into contact with our scouts. The latter groups have died from the encounters. I asked the scouts about her behavior and they stated that she seemed like she was searching for something."

"Can you elaborate?" asked Leliana.

"Well, she would, according to the scouts, use her dragon to knock down the tents and rally the scouts while she would… circle them. One of them felt as though he were being inspected like an animal at a fair. Then, after a few moments she would get onto the dragon's back and leave."

Everyone in the tent was sporting the same confused and perturbed look at this piece of information.

"I should say," Josephine said, "that is rather peculiar behavior. But, at the very least she hasn't harmed our people, even by accident."

"If she has enthralled this dragon; why hasn't she returned?" Cassandra asked to no one in particular.

"Perhaps this is a side-effect of enthralling the dragon." Solas began, "Mages who have the abilities to enthrall beasts have affects on the mage themselves."

Dorian and Vivienne agreed.

"Such as?"

"Thinking they _are_ that particular beast for instance. Walking within the beasts skin when the mage is asleep." Dorian added.

"But, I've witnessed her interaction with beasts before," Cullen protested, "she didn't exuberate any of those symptoms. She was fully aware and conscious of herself."

This confession earned the Commander strange looks from the people within the crowded tent. Looks that made him very uncomfortable.

"Be that as it may," Solas broke the perturbed atmosphere, "she is alive and well. Which means that she was successful of her goal. Perhaps we just need to wait until the lingering side-effects of her enthralling the dragon wears off. That could be a possibility of why she has stayed away."

"But it begs the answer of why she is even coming into contact with our camps if she intends on staying away. And if she is searching, as Harding describes, _what_ is she searching for?" Cassandra asked.

"I don't know Lady Seeker, but whatever is going on with her, I pray it ends soon."

After that, it was decided with some convincing to stay put. The Commander absolutely hated it. It went against his better judgment of just… what? Rescuing her? At that point did she need rescuing? And there was the safety of the Inquisition camps. If she was 'attacking' them but not harming the scouts, what was the point? He would admit he knew little and less about the behaviors of dragons. Although he knew enough that when it is time for a high dragon to wreck destruction they were indiscriminate.

Cullen prayed hard that Katja knew what she was doing. He didn't want to inadvertently loose her. He trusted her with her abilities, but it didn't stop his clawing worry that something was wrong.

Pacing back and forth within his tent. Biting and itching over the details and reports.

_She needs me._ The thought ran looped into his head like a dog chasing its tail. _She needs me and I can't do anything!_

"Commander Cullen, permission to enter."

He recognized it as Scout Harding. Why was she here? Has something happened?

"Enter." He said too eagerly.

She came in with a perturbed expression on her freckled face and fisted her chest in respect.

"Has something changed?"

"No Commander… it's just…" she sighed, something was bothering her. "There was something else the scouts reported to me that I didn't release earlier. And it's something I don't want you to take the wrong way."

He gave her an irritated expression that she withheld information from the rest of the party, "What, pray tell, would that be?"

"Look, Commander it's none of my business, and there are rumors, but I couldn't help but to make a connection –"

"Connection to what? And what rumors?"

Harding sighed heavily from her obvious uncomfortablness, "When the Inquisitor and her… dragon attacked our camps, the scouts reported that she was… well, calling for you."

That halted every single thought in the Commander's brain.

Harding continued, "I made the assumption that the reason why is because you two are… ya know. And when a high dragon emerges from its hiding place it's to get ready to mate. And she's connected to the dragon with her mage abilities. So… yeah."

Both Harding and the Commander were sporting blushes. Although for different reasons.

"I, ah," the Commander cleared his throat, "thank you for telling me. And I would, appreciate it if you… didn't tell anyone else, please, Harding."

She nodded, "I understand Commander… Ser."

Being left alone with that piece of information. She was calling for him? Why?

_Katja needs me! Something is wrong and she needs me!_

He didn't quite make the connections or gravity that Harding did as to why she might be calling for him. Practically hearing 'Inquisitor' and 'calling for you.'

_She needs reinforcements! Immediately!_

_But there's no time to mobilize the troops!_

Without thinking rationally, he quickly inspected his sword – sheathing it when he was satisfied – and equipped his shield. Almost storming out of the camp. He heard distant voices calling for him but he ignored it. Single minded in his mission. Finding the makeshift stables, he saddled his horse and rode in the direction of the dragon's territory.

It was general destruction. Bodies of dead brontos, giants and great bears – well, what was left of them.

His horse neighed and whimpered in protest. Getting off and tying him to a tree branch. Walking into the territory on foot. A little bit of fear creeping within his bones that he was voluntarily within dragon territory. Wasn't stopping him from striding into it. Several trees have been knocked down from the dragon taking flight, deep scratches in the bark of the trees, and the occasional dung heap.

Feeling a vague tendril of her deeper within. Her connection with the Fade pulsing. Almost feeling as though she was everywhere and nowhere. Thankfully he didn't hear any of the dragon's roars.

Taking him at least a long, hot hour within the forests blazing sun and humidity to find the source of her Fade connection. He made it to a small crag formation within the landscape that opened up to a cave. Smelling foulness and general animal musk coming from the cave. Katja's Fade connection felt much stronger here, the little pulses much louder.

A gnawing worry developed in the back of the Commander's mind: Where is the dragon?

He'd seen signs of its habitation but the dragon itself was making a scarce appearance.

_If the dragon is not surveying it's territory, it's… down here._

Swallowing the lump in his throat. _No, I can't turn away. She needs me._

Making a makeshift torch from the dead branches and a piece of cloth from his side pack. Lighting it with his flint and steel. Resolutely steeling himself, he walked inside the cave. For some time, he cautiously walked, careful to listen to anything out of the ordinary other than the drips from the ceiling, his footsteps, and his breathing. Holding on to as tight as he can the tendril of her Fade connection. Allowing that to be his guide.

He saw specks of light in the distance and shadows casted from the luminescence. His heart hammering that he was close.

Hearing hard breathing and muffled growling sounds. Dousing out his torch and as quietly as he could tried so see the source. Any sort of stupid bravery was beginning to get crushed in his psyche.

There was the dragon. The huge Maker-damn dragon. With a dozen or so drakes pouncing around her. For a split second he then realized that he had caught them mating. Now the realization of his stupidity hit the Commander like a boulder hitting it's mark from a trebuchet. That is until he saw the causation of his stupidity.

She was sitting on the opposite side of the dragon and her drakes, looking at them.

"You can come inside Cullen."

He wanted to melt into the cracks of the cave when she called out to him. Her red eyes, dark and twinkling in the werelights. His bronze eyes darting between her and the immediate danger.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt you." She said as she got up from her position to come to him.

It was just the Commander and a very naked and slightly enthralled Inquisitor.

"I'm sorry Commander, for making you all worry." She said, slightly breathless. "It has taken me longer than I thought to overcome the dragon instincts."

Andraste bless him he was trying very hard not to let the fact that she was, once again, within his space and without any sort of attire. Unabashed and unashamed of herself. Struggling to keep his eyes on her face. Instead of wondering downwards to her plump breasts that peaked with dark nipples, athletic curves of her hips and torso, her feminine mound that nestled a dusking of grey hair, and sturdy lithe thighs. Though her face was distracting in of itself. Slightly angled eyes hooded in the dim cave, dragonthorn berry lips moist and partly open, and her moon-white hair shimmered.

His groin stirred.

Though it didn't stop him from noticing that a few yards back a dragon and a dozen drakes were busy. Or, when her eyes would look him up and down. Like she was… inspecting him.

"We, ah, thought that something was amiss when you failed to return after some time."

She shook her head, her moon-white tresses waving seductively to him.

"No, nothing is amiss. Just unexpectedly long." She clasped her long fingers, "And tell the scouts that I'm sorry for scaring them when I, ah, surprised them at their camps." Her ruby eyes looked away in embarrassment.

"Yes, um, of course Inquisitor."

"Oh, I've found some information on Samson that you've been looking for."

The mention of his former-comrade snapped him out of his reverie, though only slightly. Lady Katja walked fluidly to the small pile of her things a little further into the cave and grabbed her side pack. Heat flooded his cheeks when he stared at the hypnosis her hips, buttocks, and legs caused. The ends of her hair in tune with the hypnosis – waving and sashaying his eyes. Walking back to him as she unclasped and reached into the pack. Procuring several haphazardly folded and crinkled papers. Handing them to his person.

Cursing his gloves as he reached for the papers on her naked hand. It didn't stop the electricity that sparked up his arm into the reaches of his brain – making the hairs on his neck stand up.

"You can look them over while you're here in the Emerald Graves if you want. It'll be a couple more days before I feel comfortable enough to venture back to Skyhold with a dragon in tow."

Cullen's throat tightened, "Your seriously going to bring a dragon to Skyhold?"

She smiled sardonically, "Of course! I didn't go through all this trouble with dragon instincts to not bring her home. How does it feel Cullen, knowing you have a dragon under your command? Isn't it exciting?"

Instead of feeling excitement (which he really did at the thought) he was feeling anxious, "Are you sure you are in control here with the dragon?"

"Yes! Or else you'll be speaking to what's left of me in a dung heap. It'll be a good conversation piece when visiting dignitaries come to Skyhold."

He snorted, "Josephine will be pleased by that. Or be spouting reassurances to them that they will not be eaten if they have the courage to come."

Rolling her head in an exasperated manner, "I suppose it's not good for our reputation then." Chuckling at the thought.

With a sheepish grin on her lips she looked at where their hands were still connected, with the papers in the middle, lowering it slightly to his wrist. Bringing her eyes back to his. Repressed heat welling within his belly and cheeks.

"Commander, um, when we return to Skyhold I need to talk to you, okay? I don't trust myself right now." She shifted her feet.

Clearing his throat at the sensation of her hooded, red eyes on him and her fiery fingers around his wrist. "Of course. I will… wait for you then."

The dragon cried out loudly and several of the werelights brightened harshly before dimming back.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you elleclark88 for the fav/follow! And guest reviewer laurieann. krueger. 7 and (as always) Rae.

I forgot to mention there was a little reference to George R.R. Martin in the previous chapter. Anyone know what that was? And can I say, major deviation to game canon in this chapter. Cully-Wully might not have a fleet of griffons but he has a badass dragon! I just love teasing him as well with a naked Inqusitoralness. Also, I went back in my previous chapters and did some super-cool edits since I am my own beta. Most of those are in the beginning chapters (mostly). Nothing too dramatic.


	16. First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Chapter 15: First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

The Commander paced dizzyingly within his office. Expecting that visit that the Inquisitor spoke of in the Emerald Graves. Which was more concerning to him than the fact that a dragon now called Skyhold home. Not that happy that it now occupied one of the several courtyards that was used to train his recruits. At least it was away from public eye. He wouldn't want to be Josephine right now.

"I'll talk to you soon."

That's what she had said to him before she departed with her dragon to get it settled into Skyhold. Kat… Lady Trevelyan's warm hand leaving a sensory input on his skin when she held his arm.

That was two days ago. And his mind had been reeling with what she needed to specifically talk to him about. Was he fulfilling his Commander duties proper? What about the troops? Other military regimes?

Then he would wonder…

Her red eyes twinkling in the luminescence of the cave – heated and seeing through him. A lithe hand clasping his own.

Cullen didn't want to even think that she could possibly – no, keep it professional. That was the hard part though.

_I am a weak, weak man._

Trying to keep himself occupied and useful by reading the letters on the smuggled red lyrium. At that point he'd just be re-reading them. Soldiers were already underway to kick down doors of the smugglers. After that, he inspected the troops for many hours. Testing their readiness. Satisfied of their progression. Then, he'd go to the grounds to practice his training. What a surprise Cassandra was making herself scarce! Just when he needed that mabari-built woman to help him keep his thoughts away from _her_.

Whatever, it was getting late anyway. The dinner bells ringing.

Taking his meal to his vacant office. A little surprised that Lady Trevelyan made herself scarce at the meal hours. Usually the observant Commander would spot her during those times.

_Is she eating?_

Why wouldn't she be? Must have some unlucky servant bringing her meals to the courtyard with her dragon. If the Commander could peer out of his window he could make out the courtyard where the dragon dwelled with her.

That dragon was a fuss within Skyhold.

He could hear his soldiers and civilians alike chattering about having a dragon under wing. With both awe and fright. Highly doubting the gossip will abate anytime soon over it. With his urging, he'd convinced her a quartered off that part of Skyhold. Not so much to protect the dragon, but those either too brave or too stupid to know better. And she just… _laughed_.

"Well, Commander you shouldn't worry. Unless someone foolish enough tries to attack her, she won't be bothered by their presence."

Setting his plate on his office desk. Taking a nibble on the poached fish while reading some of the reports that accumulated during his brief absence. About half-way into his pile when a speck of dirt landed on his highly organized 'read' pile. The small _plunk_ startled him slightly in the otherwise quiet space. Looking upward to see what had caused it to fall.

_Someone is up in my room._

Keeping quiet, and having ears out.

Small squeaks from the floorboard from the unknown person's weight. They were heading toward his ladder, when they stopped briefly before heading back towards where his hole in his roof was. The astute Commander didn't hear any scuffles out, rather they stopped where his bed was. Hearing a groan from the beams and muffled squeak that strangely sounded like bed springs. The residual lyrium in his blood hummed from a use of magic up the ladder. That sent an alarm in his head. All was quiet up the ladder after that.

Where they… laying in his bed? What would-be assassin would do that? Or better yet, why would they dare use magic when he still had some residual templar abilities from the lyrium?

_Either that isn't an assassin. Or a piss poor one._

Keeping calm as to not alert the potential threat that he knew what was going on up the ladder. Going through his normal routine of putting out the candles and feigning to lock his office doors. With just as much care, he began the climb up his ladder. Now that he thought of it, it was rather early for him to do any of his before bed routines. Too late to turn back now, he was already halfway up.

Sure, he was expecting an assassin, hell maybe even an animal. But what he didn't think would be up in his quarters – or his bed – was the Inquisitor herself. Nearly wanting to fall off the ladder in realization.

"Good evening Commander. Your turning in early."

Trying to hide his mild shock to see her calmly waiting for him, in his bed. Thank the Maker she wasn't nude. Like she had the last couple times. She looked like she had freshened herself with a bath and had clean clothes on – a style he rarely seen her in which he guessed what Josephine's doing. Looking absolutely delightful. Though he'd admit she'd looked delightful in anything (or without).

Keeping his straying thoughts contained as he approached her, and she raised herself to meet him.

"Well, I heard something up here and I decided to investigate. I didn't expect to find you." He said while rubbing his neck.

"I did say that I needed to speak to you. I'm sorry for not coming sooner, but my dragon had me preoccupied. You were right about the gawking onlookers."

"I hope that none are bothering your dragon."

She chuckled, "No, I think they don't know what to think of it."

"As long as no one gets hurt in the mean time. I apologize if I didn't notice you entering by office."

Lady Katja gave him a confused look before answering, "I didn't enter your office."

Now it was the Commander's turn, "How did you come in then?"

She pointed to the hole in his roof.

"Lady Inquisitor, I do have doors to my office." He snorted while giving her a perturbed look.

"I know, but I was climbing up and noticed you were rather busy through the windows. So, I came up here to speak to you when you had a moment." Sounding like it was the most obvious thing.

"Well, um, you don't have to do that. You can speak to me anytime you need to."

"Oh, right." She clasped her hands and shifted her feet. "It wasn't anything Inquisition-related that I needed to speak to you about."

_Then… why?_

Rubbing his neck with his palm while saying, "What's, um, on your mind then Lady Inquisitor?"

She came closer to him. Distinctly smelling her – the pine needles and dew grass – swallowing the lump in his throat. Feeling the raking that her red eyes left on his skin. A wave of heat coursed through his chest and cheeks. Trying to suppress it.

For a moment she didn't speak, and he wondered if he had done something wrong. Her clasping hands said otherwise, that she was nervous. Of what?

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." He said automatically.

Her eyes widened slightly, "That was rather quick. In what way?"

"What do you mean?"

"As Inquisitor or… as me. The person."

"… Yes. To both."

"Even though… I mean, I – I am a mage. And yet you don't see the bad?"

The question surprised him. Was she questioning his loyalty? His commitment to the Inquisition? "I'm sorry! If I've given you cause to doubt my … my ability to be your military advisor –"

"What? No! That's not what I'm talking about." Furiously shaking her head.

"Then… as what?"

Invisible sweat drops spewed from the Commander's head as she was momentarily quiet. Giving him an expression that he hadn't seen from her before. She looked almost… determined. The next moment happened so fast that his brain froze.

Grabbing the collar of his gorget, pulling him down to her level, her lips had him paralyzed. Pressing more firmly and lightly sucking in the part that had his scar. Letting go with a wet pop. Her eyes had a dreamy expression and had a mesmerizing smile. A very faint dusking of pink on her cheeks. What part of the Fade had he fallen into?

"This… this can't be real?" Saying doubtfully, quietly. Wanting it very much to be true.

Looking at him confusedly, and just as quietly, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You're… you're the Inquisitor, were at war, and you – I didn't think you would – if it was possible –"

"That's rather silly Cullen. I just wished that I… that I had seen it sooner." Smiling cheekily, "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"No! I just… ah, wasn't sure if you would. I didn't want it to be a passing thing."

Panic seized the Commander as her face turned quiet, distant – like it was when he first met her. Her hands resuming their clasping motions.

_No. No Maker, don't let her have second thoughts! Why would you -!_

Then it passed, and she smiled. The panic he felt vanished.

"I think – I mean, I care for you. I really do. Well, more like really like you. I guess you figured that from the kiss. So we should, um, see where we go?" Adverting her eyes and shifting her feet. "But, if you need to –"

A wave of boldness gripped the Commander as he held her shoulders and pulled her into his own kiss. Inwardly chuckling, it's good to see that he wasn't the only one who stumbled over his words at times. Feeling her surprised gasp before she reciprocated with a soft moan. Gaining more and more heat as the seconds trickled by. Her strong hands pulling him closer, keeping him. He tried to pull away, needing breath.

When she quickly pulled him back, yanking on his fur cloak, growling out, "_Don't_ you stop." One of her lithe hands grabbed the back of his head –tangling within his yellow hair – pulling him closer.

_Katja…_ saying her name within him mind like a Chant.

His heart hammering so hard he thought it would burst through his armor. The erratic pound beating on his ears. When her tongue ran across his teeth, begging for entry, he was helpless to allow it. Outright groaning at the contact with his own. Taking their kiss deeper. His groin jumped at first contact. Tasting so delicious – a lingering of sweet mead and earthy herbs. Along with her natural smell of pine needles and dew grass. Reminding him of warmth, security, _home_. Wanting, needing all of _her_ within him.

And that frightened him.

Reluctantly pealing himself off of her delicious, warm lips. Very much needing breath and she as well. Katja whimpered from the loss, attempting to reignite the kiss when he held her at bay.

"Cullen…" she whined.

Swallowing hard, holding himself back from taking it further. "We should… slow it down."

She bit her moist, swollen lips. Her chest heaving to control herself. Very much in a similar situation himself. Feeling the pulsating heat on his face and the rest of his body. Beads of sweat developing in his hair and forehead.

"But, I want…" her red eyes dark with want. A shiver ran down the Commander's spine.

"I know." He said thickly, lowering a few octaves, surprised at his own unfurling, "It's too…"

"Sudden?" she proffered.

He nodded, unable to find words to what it was he wanted to say.

"I can… I can still kiss you? I really, really liked that." A smile spread on her moist lips and her tanned face darkened from a unsuppressed blush.

"Me too. I liked it as well."

Their arms wrapping around themselves, holding each other close. Feeling so much stronger than he had in a long time. The strength within her sending tickling, soothing waves within him – fortifying his spirit. Quieting his doubts, calming him. Keeping him here with her.

* * *

Sprinting across the granite walls of Skyhold. Her body felt so alive!

When Cullen held her… she felt so safe. He made her stronger. Giving him a parting kiss on his lips and flushed cheek.

"I'll see you later." She told him, promised him.

"I will wait for you."

_Oh fuck… oh _fuck_!_

When their kiss went deeper, and his tongue went into her… it took all her strength not to throw him on his bed and just… _fuck him_. Rip his armor and clothes off or just simply unlace his trousers. Pull him out and let him fill her as she rode him, fucked him, to oblivion. If he could do that to her and they just _kissed_; what else could he ignite in her if they rutted?

Oh she'll be getting more kisses from him.

Leaping into her quarters through her open window. She needed some release after he built her up. Maybe unintentionally, but still! Throwing her clothes off and diving into her bed. Seeing his face as he kissed her – the tender, hard flush on his face and the curling of his well-groomed hair. Touching herself the way she wanted him to.

Cupping her left breast and pinching the nipple; perking it. Sliding between her heated folds to find her clit; moist and aching. Sighing happily as she thought of him with her picture memory touching her this way. Tightening herself in gentle circles.

Going further to find the entrance of her core; teasing herself as she went in and out with the tips of two digits. Pinching her nipple harder as she gasped. Using the pad of her thumb to continue to rub her clit.

"Do you like this Katja?" he would ask lustily into her ear.

Moaning out a 'yes'.

Him grinning cockily as he went further into her and increasing his movements on her clit. Her body shivering and arching to the touch. Hearing the sweet, moist popping sounds as he did so. Cullen's hot breath on her neck as he placed desirable kisses there. Continuing, building as she came. White dotting her vision as she came unbound. Spent. Released.

Happy.

* * *

"I don't understand the Commander, Varric."

The said dwarf nearly fell out of his self-made workstation in the library when Cole suddenly appeared. Taking a minute to collect himself before responding to the worried kid, "Curly? What's he done this time?"

"He was just so happy with the Herald but he got scared. Warmth, security, home. How can someone feel scared thinking of home?"

The bawdy storyteller put down his quill from his writing and regarded the kid, "I think you better start from the beginning."

_This is gonna be good material._ He thought. _If it is what I think it is._

"The Commander was scared, afraid the last few days. The Herald wanting to talk to him. Uncertainty. Unknown. The Herald didn't know what to say to him. Keeping herself occupied. Both wispy, dreaming, floating. She came and saw him. Unexpected but welcome. Tell him now. Tell him now. Unable to, so she spurs into action. Tall, strong, proud. Drowning in the warm earth of him.

"Doors opening within them. Seeing the unseen. The Commander comes to. A simple touch of her grounding him to the earth. No more falling into the blue. Filling it with the beating of his heart. Their hearts. Reminding him of a place for him within her home. Sweet, earthy, holy. And that frightens him."

That was a lot for him to take in, "Was Kitten afraid?"

"No. Balm for the burns. Calm, tender, heated. Stars in the dark sky. I am certain now. Why was he afraid Varric?"

Taking a few moments of contemplation before answering, and it nearly put a smile on his face, "I think the Commander has some issues to deal with regarding unrequited love." Spending the next few minutes explaining that to Cole before he, well, fade-stepped out of the library.

_Oh Andraste's tits, if I decide to put this into a book – no, _when_ I do – this will be what _Swords and Shields _should have been written as. Now, what to call it…_

Thinking merrily over future said romance novel while writing the continuation of a shitty one.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Huge thank you to Starvica, ElementalDragonKy, Poca, salinagriego, and Sanni973 for the favs/follows and the reviews from laurieann. krueger. 7 and Rae. And yes, Cullen is badass, but more like his chick made him more of one.

Yes, I know this chapter is significantly shorter than my previous ones, but I took a break from writing this fanfic and this was just to get me back into the swing of things. I wrote a smutty drabble, _A Little Less Conversation_, before posting this to help. And I think it did. I'm happy for those who stuck around for **14 long, chapters** for my femquisitor and Cully-Wully to get it on. Hopefully it's been entertaining along the way.

It was a real contender between Mr. Presley's _Love Me Tender_ and Mr. Cash's _First Time Ever I Saw Your Face_. But, Mr. Cash nailed it on this one.


	17. Secret Garden

Chapter 16: Secret Garden

The next morning, Katja woke up so giddy she thought the sun was brighter. But, that could just be the ache at the apex of her thighs. Spending almost all of the night thinking about Cullen. Well, thinking _and_ dreaming. Wanting him _now_… but she will respect that they needed some time to develop their feelings. She got that neither of them want what was between them to be a fling. It was just a matter of hours ago that they admitted they cared for each other intimately.

Kissing him and even holding him will have to suffice for the time being.

_I'd have to be careful about the kissing thing. His lips are gonna drive me crazy! Especially that stupid lip licking thing he does. And the slightly chapped but underlining softness to them, that sweet imperfection of his scar, and his warm tongue with a lingering of his diluted ale and something that was _him_… oh _fuck_ me…_

Shaking out her heated thoughts of the kisses they shared.

_Well, I have to do something that drives him equally crazy then!_

Going into her huge walk-in closet and mentally groaning at the selection. At least four-fifths of the wardrobe was 'donations' by Josephine and Vivienne. Fashion from all over Thedas that she would at least be alright with wearing. A big firm 'no' from herself on the dress/gown ensemble. Though it didn't stop them from buying a few before then. Those were shoved to the deepest corners of the closet. She can't defend herself with a big bird plume from the waist down. Or with something so constrictive and inflexible as a corset. Or with heels that made her feel six-feet taller than she should and upset her balance.

What Inquisition business needed to be done today?

Katja did have to give Josephine one up on the bravery department. She came by yesterday while she was tending to her dragon that dignitaries will require her presence today. But, she was going to sneak in some spar-time with either Cassandra or Bull. Needing something to hit in a non-sexual manner. At least release some lingering excitement in her.

A knock came at her door and a serving maid brought her breakfast. Thanking her from the depths of her closet. Smelling the deliciousness of pancakes and crispy bacon. Along with a pungent aroma of Antivan coffee that she developed a likeness to.

Rolling her eyes and just picking something from her closet. Her dumbfuckery of fashion led to one of the two women having a sign indicating which fashion is 'in season' with a certain country. Indicating which ones were 'Orlesian' or 'Ferelden' or 'Antivan', ect.

Fuck being girly.

_Let's see what atrocity I look like today._

Holding up the hanger holding the ensemble in front of herself while looking in the mirror. Shaking her head at the thought of wearing this. The only words to mind was 'Orlesian-light'. However, she thought the same with all her 'pretty' clothes. Why couldn't battle gear be considered fashion? She would normally wear simple clothes, but the fact that she had to have court with nobles, _Orlesian_ nobles, she had to refrain from wearing so. Josie would verbally beat her up and tell her "I had to spend a entire week writing apologies and granting favors for them to recant ever seeing you in such a… mundane way." It was the same with all of them, but the Orlesians were the worst.

Sighing and pulling the hanger away, revealing her naked self to the mirror.

Swallowing a little at her reflection. Cullen had seen her without her clothes before… and he found her _attractive_ as a woman?

She wasn't soft by any means. Years and years went to training her body to defend herself. The lines of muscle on her torso, arms and legs. Along with several scars from her training and battles. Her hair a wild mess from sleeping. Probably one of the most athletic women of the Inquisition besides Cassandra. She always wanted to fight since she was little. Defend others and kick the shit out of evil-doers. She'd never found the appeal of laying around being a 'woman', 'wife', and 'mother'. Finding little appeal to the giggles, powdered make-up, and birthing children.

The little conversation she had with Cassandra that if she had stayed in Nevarra she'd be married to an old duke with three children in tow. With her it'd be the same despite her being a mage. Maybe. Fat, bitter, and a general pain to be around.

The thought made her shiver. _Yuck_. Not that she looked down at those who done so. It wasn't the life for her.

_And he likes this? Even without the soft curves of feminine hips and tits? Does he see _me_ under my skin?_

Never, in all her life, had Katja felt so self-conscious about her body.

In her early childhood she thought little of it. Which transitioned to her life once she became an apostate. It was impractical living in the wilds. You couldn't survive worrying about whether or not a bug landed in your hair, or if you accidently stepped in bogfisher poo, or if your armor (or lack thereof) made you look fat.

_Katja your being fucking stupid! He's seen you fight! He knows you can take care of yourself! Do you really think that he'd like you as he does if he _didn't_ find that attractive?_

Just as the doubt crept in, it vanished.

_Cullen wouldn't have kissed me like that if he didn't find me attractive. Or, that flush he does when he looks at me that I strangely find adorable. Or… how good it felt when he held me._

Her light-hearted happiness settled back inside herself, glowing within her bones and corded muscle. Even the stupid ensemble she forced herself to wear didn't seem so bad. Even the bitter coffee tasted sweeter.

Just as she finished with the last of the laces on her shoes did a sudden knock come to her door. A messenger came in and reported that Ambassador Montilyet requested her within the war room. Dismissing the messenger before pondering what was the fuss was about. Finishing her laces before heading to the war room. Where, both Josephine and Leliana were waiting already. All that was left was the Commander.

A little heat within her flared at the thought of him. Just when he was beginning to get out of it.

Both the spymaster and diplomat quirked an eye brow at her.

"Why Lady Inquisitor, that is a ravishing outfit you have." Said Josephine.

"You were the one who got it for me." She replied dryly.

"Is it? Well, you look very good in it today. Dressing up?"

Rolling her eyes, "Only for those dignitaries I have to suffer through later. And just so you know, after that is done, I intend to knock Cass and Bull around in the training yard. I got some pent up energy that needs to be released."

Both diplomat and spymaster looked at each other and muffled giggles to each other.

Sighing and rolling her eyes. _These two._

Just a short moment later the Commander came in, looking just as tall and proud as ever. Looking _really_ good. Even though he looked the same as he always has. But… his armor seemed to shine a little brighter. And his... groomed hair looked more kept (though she would _really_ like to see those delightful, wild curls). He was fresh shaven as well, showing off his masculine jaw. And the maroon cloak was seemed more perfectly wrapped around his armored, muscular body.

_Dammit! What is he turning me into?!_

He gave a polite nod to them. Maybe it was just her, but it looked like he twerked his lips a little at the sight of her.

_Probably thinks the outfit is just as ridiculous as I find it._

Feeling a little heat to her cheeks in embarrassment.

_Way to go. Profess your feelings to him and less than twelve hours later embarrass yourself with a clown outfit. Major points in the love department Kat._

"I hope everything is alright for the Ambassador to summon us early in the morning." Cullen dryly remarked while they made their way inside the war room.

"Actually it's splendid news. I have received a missive from Grand Duke Gaspard cordially inviting us to the Winter Palace. It seems that, with his sisters persuasion, Duchess Florianne is holding a Grand Masquerade to discuss peace talks with Empress Celene. The date is in two weeks time."

Katja sighed happily, "Well, that's good news. But, what of the Empresses assassination? Have our people tried to reach her?"

"Several times Inquisitor," Leliana reported, "each time the message has been intercepted. Whoever is plotting against her must be within her close circle. She is constantly surrounded by handmaids, servants, guards. Rarely is she ever alone. The assassin would have their best chance during the peace talks."

From there it as discussed on how to actually find the assassin. Then it turned a little awkward for her.

"I must asked Lady Inquisitor: How much of nobility do you know?" Josephine asked.

Raising her brow at the question, "Enough to act like one here. Why?"

She saw her swallow and turned to the other commanders, then, back to her, "After our meeting, I would like to have a discussion with you in private."

"Alright…" Private means her quarters.

A few other topics were addressed and meeting adjourned.

Both she and Josephine walked to her room. Maybe it was her, but she detected a bit of nervousness from the Antivan. Once within her quarters Josephine omitted a heavy sigh.

"Okay… how to put this delicately. If you are unaware, Halamshiral is a place where the Grand Game is played. Everyone there will be watching you. From how you speak to a simple gesture. All gauging your power."

"How heartwarming that if I fart they'd gauge the smelliness of it."

Josie became a little agitated at that smart-remark, "This is no laughing matter Inquisitor! How we play at the Winter Place will be as dangerous, no, _more_ dangerous than facing Corypheus. You don't even realize the sway the court will have over the Inquisition if we do not succeed."

"Alright, I get it. They are vipers."

"It's not that!"

"Then what is it Josie?"

Shaking her head in distress before blurting out, "There is no easy way of saying this Inquisitor. But I…" sighing again, "You are a mage. The Orlesian court disapproves of that. And you are a Freemarcher as well. Despite that, you are a noble. A… non-Orlesian noble, but a noble non-the-less."

"So, I'm going into a viper nest with a low-approval status. Good to know."

Keeping her displeased expression, "They just like to hiss. But we can work the noble angle. There will be certain… expectations of you."

Rolling her eyes a little, "What do they want?"

"I know you play, to a degree, a noble here in Skyhold when dignitaries visit. But, I've been handling their visits because you are away most of the time. What I am concerned about is your… etiquette. Don't get me wrong Inquisitor, it's alright here in Skyhold. But, um, your relaxed attitude won't hold at the Winter Palace. It will reflect… poorly."

"So, I just have to refrain from eating with my mouth open and making crass remarks. Got ya."

She then looked like a cat stepped on her tail, "No!"

"So I should do that?"

"No!"

"Then what?" she was becoming exasperated at that point. Josephine wasn't making much sense to her.

"Look. All they know of you if that you are a Freemarcher noble who is a mage. You can close rifts. A lone survivor after the destruction of the Conclave. They are unaware that you have spent the majority of your life being unschooled in nobility and it's intricacies. So, wrong move and they'd think you did so on purpose. Even if you did so out of ignorance."

"Joy. So what do I have to do?"

"You wouldn't believe what you have to do to prepare. I have held all non-essential missives on hold until after Halamshiral. Right now, training you is important. I will hold court with those… dignitaries for you. I suggest you do whatever you need to finish, as will I. We will begin your tutoring after lunch."

Katja had a bad feeling that whatever this 'tutoring' involved in was going to hurt. But, how bad could it be? When she told Cass and Bull later they stared and laughed at her.

* * *

Three days…

Three _days_ of long torture. Those 'dignitaries' were two of the most pompous, self-righteous, fuck-turds she'd ever met! One was actually her main tutor on 'etiquette' and general history of Orlesian nobility. And the other was a fashion designer with more sparkles coming out of his ass than Dorian. Meanwhile Josephine was in the background encouraging them!

She'd managed to make a daring escape involving fire, a mean cat, and a misplaced hair pin.

Running as fast as she could to the Commander's tower. Bursting the door open. Where the fuck was he?! She needed to run! Hide! The Demon Of Doom was upon her! All shall feel the wrath! Where was Corypheus when you needed him?! Where to hide?! Where to hide!?

There!

_Where the hell was his ladder!?_

"Inquisitor!" The Doom Of All Doom was calling for her!

_Not today bitch!_

Cringing. There was no time! Jumping and climbing as fast as a squirrel, heaving herself up to the loft of the Commander's quarters. Noticing the Commander under the covers, cringing and shaking.

He shot up, having a wide-eyed surprised expression.

"Inquisitor!" the Mistress of Doom was closer.

Running to him and putting her hand on his mouth, gritting through her teeth, "I am _not_ here!" Diving under the bed. Ignoring the muffed 'what?' from him. Making herself as tiny as possible under his bed.

"Inquisitor!" The Mistress of Doom shouted into the office below. "Commander!"

"_What_?!" he growled. Something she'd never thought she'd hear from him.

"My apologies!" Hearing a 'umf!' of annoyance as she exited through a different door.

Staying absolutely still for a few moments longer before she dared to venture out from the safety under the Commander's bed. Hearing the shivering from the Commander's breath. Her concern overriding her fear of the Antivan Mistress of Doom.

Peeking over the top of the mattress. Dark eyes filled with pain bore onto her, the whites blood-shot. He was doubled over from it, huddling himself. Lips quivering and shaking as if from cold. Foam bubbling at the corners. Her heart breaking.

The withdrawals.

_"Whatever the suffering I accept it."_

His eyes closed tightly, breathing out raspy, "Leave me!"

"No." steeling herself.

"Get out! I don't want you to -!"

"Too late. You gonna have to toss me out."

Lifting himself through his pain, "I said get ou-ahh-ha-_agh_!" dropping himself back down as a wave of pain hit him. Clutching his side.

"Please," she said quietly, tenderly, "let me help you."

Balling up himself to make himself more threatening, dark eyes darting to her with pure madness. A rabid wolf came to mind, "I don't need a fuckin' _mage_ to help me! Leave before I make you Tranquil!"

Letting the flinching hurt make its course through her body. He wasn't himself, that she knew for certain. "You don't have to do this alone. I can help you."

"And what will you do this time _mage_? Or demon? Abomination? Does not matter. _You will not break me!_ You've taken my friends but you will not take me!"

_He's hurting so much…_

"I'll be _right back_. I promise. I'm going to help you."

Sprinting, er, climbing down as quickly as she climbed up. Using the exit that was a short cut to the library and coincidently to Solas' apothecary. Finding what she needed and spurting out to the exasperated elf "I'll pay you back! It's an emergency!" And doubling back to the Commander's quarters. Stuffing the material down her breast bind to climb up. Finding the Commander in just a shivering mess as she left him.

Pulling the herbs and oil out of her bind and setting them on his night stand. Along with a medium sized bowl that made one of her tits twice as big.

"I'm back. I got what I needed. This is gonna help, I promise."

"What –"

"Hush!"she commanded firmly but kindly, "This is gonna help, okay."

Steeling herself at seeing him in such a state and began mixing the oil and herbs into the bowl. Using her mana to warm it slightly. The room began to smell like mint, elfroot, and dawnlotus. Satisfied, she rubbed the infused oil on her hands. Setting herself beside him. Cupping her oily hands on the Commander's furrowed head. He felt so _cold_!

A look of confusion ran across his face.

"I need you to trust me Cullen. This… may seem a bit odd, but it will help."

Sporting a challenging glare, hissing out, "You will not break me!" over and over. Hands squeezing her arms. He made no move to push her away.

Exhaling deeply, concentrating within herself. Untying a reserve that she normally kept under key. Feeling the lyrium within the Commander's body. Widening her connection to feel the aspects but at the same time silencing the other noise from other lyrium sources. Seeing his lyrium specifically. The sparks and connections it made with the muscles and nerves of his head. Searching for the source of his pain. The lyrium crystallizing, pooling itself together from his dehydration of the substance. It was no bigger than a grain of sand, but the diluting agitated it. Causing his pain within his head.

With absolute care, she began to pull it apart. Any harder or less delicateness the lyrium will pull violently and possibly kill Cullen. After a moment, it diluted itself back into his bloodstream.

Cullen let out a sobbing groan from the release. His bronze eyes rolling to the back of his head. Grinning lightly from her work, she rubbed his temples to release any lingering strain. Making her way down to the base of his skull. Concentrating on the nerve pathways that the lyrium within highlighted. Soothing any flaring. His hands released their bruising grip on her arms.

"On your stomach Commander."

Wordlessly, he obeyed.

Glad to see that her little ability was helping. Taking her boots and pants off and reapplying some more of the infused oil onto her hands. Climbing up into his bed and settling herself on his lower back, well, his butt cheeks. Which were clothed by a thin nightclothes material. Her own clothed lady bits pressing on the flesh. Mentally slapping herself. Now wasn't the time for dirty, filthy thoughts.

The Commander tensed and she reminded him to relax.

Focusing instead on her hands and the contact with his naked back. Concentrating on other crystallizing lyrium pools within his body. Reopening her connection. Following the nerve pathways with her fingers and massaging the pain away. Using her mana to warm her hands.

Each time she diffused a lyrium pool, he relaxed further into the mattress and emitted a moan that was border lining on sexual. At least to her.

_No Katja! Stop it!_

Continuing down his back and moving herself further down his muscles thighs. He tensed up when she reached his buttocks but she kindly reprimanded him to relax. Pulling up the material to reveal those well-chiseled legs. They weren't super defined (like Bull's), but enough to let the lingering eye that he constantly trained. He didn't suffer softness physically.

Firmly kneading the muscles and dispelling any lyrium pools. She felt like she was crafting in the Undercroft. Instead of metal, it was the Commander's muscles, nerves, and bones she hammered and smelted back into shape. Removing any impurities other than what _was_; which was the lyrium. Her hands the hammer and anvil and her ability the forge.

With a simple push of her fingers on his shoulder she silently commanded him to turn over. Bonelessly, obediently, he did so. Katja's concentration nearly wavered when she gazed upon the Commander's face. He was flushing, mouth slightly parted, and his liquid bronze eyes were half-lidded blissfully – pupils almost making his eyes dark.

_After-sex face._ She thought absentmindedly. Cooling the kindling in her womanhood and mental perversion before it started again.

Instead, concentrating on his shoulders and arms. Taking more of her infused oil into her palm before rubbing it into his skin. Feeling his eyes on her as she worked. On the last of his palms, his right, feeling the hard calluses from his swordsmanship. From the finger tips, the inner-ridge, and flat of his thumb. Hard calluses but soft skin.

Cullen's hand closed, holding her oiled hands in place.

He was smiling.

Her insides melted a little – a strange sensation for her. Leaving a warm tingle in her chest and increasing her heart rate slightly.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

Feeling a little bit of her heart in her ears and a shiver down her spine. "Your… welcome. Better?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad your alright." Katja smiled softly as well. Happy that she released him from his physical pain.

His hand held tighter and his face contorted to one of distress and sadness, "I am… _so sorry_ for what I said to you." Lifting himself up and embracing her tightly. Raspily whispering into her ear, "I swear I will never say those things again. By Andraste's sacred pyre I won't. You deserve better from me."

Taking a moment to get her wits together from the embrace. Her nerves on fire with sweet heat from the close contact. His strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her flush on his torso. His head cradling the crook of her neck; warm breath sending tickles to her skull and spine. Despite her reaction, this was an 'I'm sorry' hug and not a 'lover's embrace' hug.

Holding him just as tightly, unafraid of him. "I knew you didn't mean them. People say things they don't mean when they are in pain. And you were _defiantly_ in pain."

"It doesn't excuse me."

Chuckling, she said, "If I thought for a second Cullen you meant them, you'd be a bloody heap of bones at the base of this mountain."

Spurting out a single chuckle before saying, "Good to know. But… still… I will make it up to you somehow."

"Cullen… I knew this wouldn't be a ride in the woods for you. Nothing you say or do will ever frighten me away."

Tightening his press of his fingers on her back, "Even after…?"

"You've done nothing wrong. Pain makes you see enemies when you should see friends. I'm just glad that I could help you through one of your bad days."

"I wouldn't have these bad days if I took the lyrium."

"No Cullen. You would forget yourself. Remember what I told you back at Haven. Self-Mastery."

His breathy chuckle was full of sorrow and a little resolve, "I shall try."

"You will do more. You will triumph."

His fingers relaxed and she felt the air around him loose the tension he held. Now, she felt, that he was holding her in a 'lover's embrace' hug. The tingles of happiness caressing her skin. Nuzzling the side of his face, inhaling his scent within his curled hair. With gentleness she caressed his spine with her finger tips. Closing her eyes and basking in his warmth. Letting the electrical pulses that he emitted continue their charge into her body. Calming hear heart but exciting her as well.

It felt like the embrace they shared when they first kissed. She never felt a sensation quite like it. But she really liked it. Floating but here.

_A kiss. He'd like a kiss too._

Pulling back just slightly and turning his head just so. Feeling the pricks of his stubble and the curve of his cheek bone and jaw. Her eyes closed as she pressed her lips onto his. Keeping it gentle. He was banged and bruised from the beating of his withdrawal – both physically and mentally. Hearing the beat of her heart in her ears. After a few more pecks on his slightly chapped lips, he groaned softly and reciprocated the tender kiss. Her whole body heating up – groin stirring.

_He is the cool rain at the end of a drought._

It was slow and heated. Careful with the force and pressure.

Opening her eyes to look into his liquid bronze. The pupils dilating widely.

_I am here,_ she said through them. _I am here._

Pulling their lips apart and pushing him with ease onto his back. That red flush was back on his face and shoulders. Lips moist from their contact.

"You… you need your rest Commander." Katja said a little breathless.

Holding onto her hands before asking, "Could you stay? I mean… if it isn't too bold of me to ask – if you have other duties you must –"

Smiling before she shifted her body to lay next to him similarly on her side. Half-hovering over him, looking him in the eye. Cupping his cheek like she done a moment ago.

"You don't need to ask. Besides, I came here to hide anyway." A little bit of mischievousness glinting on her face. "So, it should technically be _me_ asking _you_ if I can stay."

He chuckled at that, raising a brow, "Is that why Josephine stormed into my office?"

Rolling her eyes at the mention of her, "Yes, the Antivan Mistress of Doom as she will be called for the moment."

Barking in laughter over her new nickname. He rolled his head in the absurdity of it. After a moment of perturbed seriousness from Katja, she too, joined in the laughter. Very much taking pride that she had made him laugh to begin with.

"Oh, and before I forget."

Suddenly lifting herself and yanking the pins and de-plaiting her hair. Throwing them maliciously to the far wall and hearing them 'ping!' on their way down to his office. Several 'ouches' were made before her hair flowed freely from its confinement. Digging her hands through her long mane of hair, poofing it up wildly in rebellion.

Then, resumed her position next to Cullen. Letting out a, "Ah! That's better!" Calming herself a little and settling herself on him with a smile on her face. Her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her – the hand on her waist.

A biting cold draft came through the hole in his roof.

Scrunching her eyes in annoyance and growling at the unwelcome cold to the nice moment they were having. Lifting her arm that was draped across the Commander's chest into the air. Balling the palm into a fist, concentrated her mana, and released five balls of heat no bigger than said fist. Taking their positions at the corners of the bed and one directly above them.

"What are those?" Detecting a little bit of fear in the tone of his voice.

"I don't know the technical term, but they are basically heat-without-fire balls." She explained lazily. "They will warm the air, and if you touch them they won't burn. Since you don't have a fireplace and you don't want to repair the roof."

"Oh. Well, ah, I do have a blanket Inquisitor."

"Too comfortable. Don't wanna move."

Making one of those soft, throaty chuckles before he held her with him as he lifted himself up to grab the edge of the blanket he had pushed down from his lyrium withdrawal pains. Covering them both with its soft warmth. This fashion reminded her when wolves would huddle themselves for warmth and comfort. Finding it relaxing and comforting with him.

"If it isn't presumptuous to ask," he started with a gentle whisper, "what exactly has been going on with you and Josephine that's got you bent out of shape?"

Scrunching her nose in distaste. "What you should be asking is what she isn't doing." Sighing dejectfully, "She brought two tutors to help with my 'etiquette' as she calls it. One's a fashion designer and the other is a finishing school tutor. Both are maddening and insufferable. Apparently I'm not 'noble' enough to pass in the Orlesian courts."

"Her words?"

"Not exactly, but she might as well have. You know how she tries to put things delicately. I know that it's important to impress the Orlesian court when we go to the Winter Palace. Along with the mission to stop the assassination and to keep Orlais from falling apart. It just feels like she's going overboard with the prep work on me. Along with those two demon-tutors hounding me every move I make."

Sighing heavily at the thought, "Sometimes Cullen, being the Inquisitor really sucks. Being born a noble is supposed to help, but it seems like it's just hindering me." Katja felt him flinch, "Is something wrong?"

"I... hadn't considered… you're a noble."

Sighing, "That's what they keep telling me."

"I hope that doesn't – I mean – _does_ it bother you?"

"The part where I have to fulfill impossible standards, expectations, and pretend to _not_ to set other nobles on fire, yes."

He flinched again, "No… I was speaking about us. I'm… _not_ a noble. I have no title or wealth outside the Inquisition."

"That's silly. Why would that bother me?"

"I… don't know. It's just rather strange that a Freemarcher noble, the heir of the Teyrn of Ostwick, would want a Ferelden fisherman's youngest son as their companion. That they, ah, she – _you –_ have eyes on me…" Hearing the uncertainty in his voice.

_Is it really that big of a deal? Why would it be? If he is bringing it up… maybe? _

Though she didn't understand. They were _born_ as something, but that didn't _define_ who they were _now_, in this space, this point in time. Not once had it occurred to her.

Lifting herself to look him in the eye, nuzzling her nose on his, she said proudly, "You are Cullen and I am Katja, and as long as we care for each other that is all that matters. Titles and wealth mean nothing to me." She smiled, "But don't tell Josie I said that."

"Well, yes, but –"

She kissed him lightly to stop his sputtering words. Pulling back she said confidently, "Having a title or wealth to my name didn't put food in my belly, or heal me when sick, or teach me to survive in the wild nearly all my life. I've thought little of it since.

"I have thought of being the heir to the Teyrn of Ostwick, my, ah, father's heir. I could technically, by right of succession, have it, however it holds little appeal to me. Being the Inquisitor and the Herald is enough responsibility." She said that with equal parts grimace and seriousness.

"You would forfeit your nobility status?" Now _that_ was a surprise face.

Rolling her eyes, "I forfeited it a long time ago. It just isn't official."

"But… your parents –"

"I haven't seen my parents yet." She said quietly, cutting him off.

"Right, I'm sorry." He adverted his eyes in embarrassment. "I'm not very good at this am I?"

Katja chuckled warmly, "I'm not either." And settled her head back on his shoulder.

Then, without warning, her uncertainty filled her being. It was the same feeling she got when she looked at herself in the mirror the morning after their first kiss. The same self-conscious feeling over _herself_.

She had to know, "Does it bother you? That I'm… not really much of a noble? Or much of a Lady?"

For a panicked moment he was silent. Dread making her spill out her words, "I mean, I hate gowns. I can fight and defend myself. I don't mind getting filthy. I can say crude and crass remarks that can make Bull flush. I'm practically a wild mare tolerating being in a pen."

He chuckled deep in his chest before turning over to hold her more firmly, "I rather like those things about you. The fact you can defend yourself is something I find appealing. It's made you strong, and I really like that. And you're not crude or crass – rather you are blatantly honest. Which I find enduring, especially when you say something funny. Though, the 'wild mare' part is probably true. I shouldn't complain though, I have my own strange quirks."

Swiftly, her self-conscious feeling dissipated like spider webs in the wind. She heard his calm heartbeat and the steadiness of his voice. He told her the truth. It was enough to fill her with unsung joy.

"… I'm sorry Lady Josephine is being a pain." He said.

She smiled, "Your better company."

Both basking in the warmth of each other and the thick blanket and the heat-without-fire balls. Hearing a faint squeak, but uncaring as of the source.

* * *

_Unacceptable! This isn't working out at all!_ The Antivan Ambassador thought to herself, She must be hiding in Ser Cullen's office! She was sure of it! The one place she hadn't thoroughly searched was there. She was going to sit there and wait to catch her and bring her back for her lessons! Monsieur Travis had the fabric ready for her to look at!

The Inquisitor was being a mule! An old, stubborn mule!

So, she snuck back in as quietly as she could; hiding behind Ser Cullen's desk and waiting. She had been here before, and recognized that he was having a_ bad day_ when she saw the ladder was missing to his loft. Leaving immediately after.

What she hadn't considered at the time was Lady Trevelyan was a skillful climber – a rogue with mage abilities. She'd easily climb up if need be.

It pained the Ambassador to hear the grunts of distress coming from the Commander. But, there was little she could do for him.

She heard running and a door slamming open from the library. Peaking over she saw the Inquisitor climbing up the wall and leaping up to the loft.

About to shout for her when she heard "I'm back. I got what I needed. This is gonna help, I promise."

What Lady Montilyet was about to say died in her throat. Along with her angry tirade on the Inquisitor's escape from her lessons. And just when her beautiful star hair was about to be finished no less!

She stayed. She heard what was spoken to themselves. She wanted to leave! It was highly inappropriate! But the unspoken passion… just… wow! It was something straight from a romance novel! The love of the allusive Commander's life dashing in during his inner-turmoil and stopped his pain. And the fact that under the Commander's armor was a soft, romantic heart was the crème on the cake. Oh she just wished she could be there to witness what they were physically doing!

Surely they were defiantly cuddling under the sheets. And she swore she heard kissing! And moaning!

Josephine _knew_ something was going on between them for a long while. And when they were summoned the other day for their war room meeting, it defiantly sealed it in her opinion, that they were being… _scandalous_.

It made what was said about her bearable. Had she really been going overboard? She was just so nervous. The Grand Game isn't something to trifle with! Especially at the Winter Palace. Maybe she should, back off… just a little.

Did they even know how romantic they were?! First she swoops in to save him. Then, professing that she would give up her nobility for him! She could feel the Commander blushing like a little boy from here. How enduring that _The Commander _– Ser Wet Noodle – be reduced in such a fashion! Ser I-Am-Composed becoming a little boy with his crush in the room.

Though it didn't stop her from quirking her brows from the littering of all those pins that were – was – in the Inquisitor's gorgeous hair falling from the loft to the floor of Ser Cullen's office.

By the end, she quietly made her exit. Praying that they didn't hear her leave through the door to the library. What until Leliana hears this! Barely containing herself as she made her way to the smelly rookery. Making a barely believable excuse for them to slip into the privacy of the war room. Leliana sporting a grin the whole time. Insufferable!

Once the door to the war room was closed, Leliana beat her to it.

"Is this about the Inquisitor and the Commander I assume?"

Huffing out, "Oh! Yes!" Then proceeded to tell her what she overheard in the Commander's tower.

"Your bad Josie for being so sneaky."

"I totally didn't mean to overhear! It was so dashing and romantic I couldn't help myself! There were always rumors – even back at Haven – of a relationship between them. Though they have picked up a hundred fold since we've been here at Skyhold. The passion I heard – _ah!_ – it just gets to me."

"Oh? Now your admitting that you overheard them making love?" a broad mischievous smile on the spymaster's face.

Josephine heavily blushed, "No! They did no such thing. I would have totally embarrassed myself if I did. I'm just very glad to hear they have found comfort and, with luck, love in each other."

"I as well. They both deserve it. Though," it was then the spymaster turned a little serious, "her nobility status may be a small problem."

The Antivan quirked her brow, "What do you mean? With the Commander's high status here at the Inquisition, along with our growing reputation, he has also elevated himself to a good match. If the letters from ladies pining for his attention is any indication. Even her parents – when they do come after they finish their business in Ostwick – would approve."

The spymaster sighed, "I would agree. History shows nobles marrying to high-ranking military officers. However, there is a complication with her parents."

"What do you mean?"

"I best start this from the beginning. I began some research on her back at Haven. In earnest when it was revealed her noble birth. What she revealed was the truth. However, what she didn't realize, or know, is that she is… betrothed."

Her jaw dropped to the Undercroft. "What?!"

"You know nobles betroth their children to cement alliances. She was betrothed to another house on the day of her first birthday. To Irvin the Third of House Queslier, specifically. That betrothal is still in effect. Even though she has been missing for eighteen years and a mage."

Josephine took a moment to shake some sense back into herself, "The Queslier's are ambitious. But that's peculiar that they haven't attempted to annul the betrothal once she went into a Circle and subsequently went 'missing'. Perhaps they kept the betrothal incase anything came up with her."

"And now it has. The Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor and heir to a be Teyrn of Ostwick. The parents could be dissuaded from the betrothal, but Irvin is a different story. He's recklessly ambitious. Whereas the parents are, but they are cautious. Even if they agree to an annulment, Irvin may pursue her regardless. Though, it may not be surprising that they won't be outright disapproving of his attempts."

"It would explain why I've gotten the volume of letters from the Queslier's, especially Irvin. I've politely been declining them. They've been… insistent on a meeting with her. Though it begs why they are keeping quiet if it would possibly help them in their ambitions."

"It's good you do. It's possible that Lady Trevelyan's parents are stalling them as well until they see her face to face. However, something like this doesn't stay in the shadows. Hopefully they come quickly and let her know before rumors hit her hears of a betrothal. Can you imagine her reaction?"

The Antivan's face paled despite her dark color, "Your right. Best keep this quiet. And I would be worried for the Commander's reaction as well."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to the new favs/followers la misteriosa, Princess of Mirkwood2, Jaygrl22, Pokemark17, Fates-Love-Queen, Jolinar-3, Caro1404, TARDIS. Princess. 90, and jenney1979! And the reviews from Rae (of course) and Princess of Mirkwood2.

Holy fuckin' Andraste's camel-toe and Varric's supple chest hair! I got 51 followers for this story! Woot-woot! Ser Wet Noodle approves your devotion! Though he hates me at this point that his love is politically betrothed. Sorry Cully!

And a bit of news on my end, I've decided that I'll try to do bi-weekly updates. Not on a specific day of the week mind you. I do have a life outside this fic and I dabble in the digital arts. Both of which can distract me from writing. It will at least give me lee-way so that I won't cram my brain into a tuna can to write something. AKA writer's burn out. I do want to provide long chapters with some quality to them (_edits_, visuals, some humor, ect). I know you guys are like: _NO! Get to the chapta now!_ (In a Schwarzenegger voice to boot.) But, that's just how it's gonna be. Hope you wonderful folks understand. And for those who _don't_ understand here's a secret…

...

...

I just farted in your face. :)


	18. Aerials

Chapter 17: Aerials

Absolutely _irritable_ the next day.

It wasn't any better with Josie or her Fade-ripped tutors. Though Josephine wasn't as perky as yesterday. Long reprimands from all three. As her 'punishment' she would have to wear a gown and have herself 'dolled' up for the whole fucking day. Oh, but that's not what they said, she must "Grow accustomed to wearing sensible, fashionable clothes along with its entirety."

So now she looked like a stuffed jester and smelly mud on her face. Her torso hurt from the fucking corset. Her legs hurt from the heels. And her head hurt from the amount of pins, plaits, and whatever else was in her hair!

_Where are you Corypheus?!_

Mentally screaming when she saw her reflection in the tall mirror in her quarters. She looked worse than what she felt! The bright, green dress make her looked like a damn bush or something a baby would vomit. The fact that nothing concealed her muscular arms was all wrong with the 'enhanced curvation' from the corset. Her boobs were almost popping out. The makeup made her look like a jester. And her hair was intricately woven in braids and pinned up that made it seem as though a hornet's nest was on top of her.

_"Girls look at this freak. She's absolutely revolting! Her hair is white as death and her eyes are blood. She looks like a demon."_

Swallowing the lump in her throat.

The only good thing was that she couldn't wear smallclothes under the dress. Her breast bind would show from the lack of straps and sleeves. And her smalls would mess with the satin of the dress. Which was alright with her, anymore layers than what was provided would stuff her more.

Then they thought it was a good idea to show her off! Gaining long, gawking stares from everyone in Skyhold. Fucking embarrassing!

_"This brat is going to be a fuckin' old maid. A shriveled prune! No sensible man would have you unless you were a cheap, alleyway courtesan."_

Her eye twitched.

"You must practice your walking and posture."

_"Gah! Your always running! Ladies don't run _stupid_! And stop climbing! What are you a monkey?!"_

Despite all the compliments and high praise from the visiting dignitaries to the servants, she could hear the laughing and giggling about her ridiculousness when her back was turned. Even her _friends_ saw! Trying to put on a brave face and laugh at it. Even though she screamed on the inside. Wanting to get the show over with.

_"Did you hear that you might actually be a bastard? Apparently your mother laid with a pig and preformed a blood rite so that your father could have an heir. Come here! Let us see if you have a little piggy tail! Hold her down girls! Ow! You stupid bitch! Ladies don't fight! Others fight for them!"_

She clenched her hand into a fist.

Just as they were heading back to her quarters. She sensed a familiar pull coming their way.

_No… please Maker no!_

"Lady Ambassador, I have those reports you wanted."

"Thank you Commander."

"Good afternoon Inquisitor."

She… she couldn't. She had to…

_"Well turn you into a proper lady! Where's my make up? Pull the corset _real_ tight. Let's give her a butt instead of this flat, skinny one. Stop your fightin'! What did I tell you about that?"_

_"… can't… breathe…"_

Closing her eyes briefly and going far away. Before reopening them and turning to the Commander.

"Good afternoon to you Commander."

His bronze eyes looked at her. A flush and a ghosting of a grin came to his face.

"You look… really nice today Lady Inquisitor."

"Thank you Commander."

"Everyone is talking about how ravishing she is." Josephine said with a delighted smile. "A couple of the messengers almost tripped over themselves looking at her."

Despite Josephine talking to him, he continued to stare at Katja's womanly, feminine form.

"Yes, well, um, good day to you both."

"You as well Commander."

As he turned to leave they entered her quarters. Josephine and her two tutors having a gleeful conversation about the success of her transformation. While she released herself. The full force of her anger hitting her. Her mana wisping off of her in waves. Actually shaking. She could feel the fear from the two tutors and concern from Josephine.

"Inquisitor… are you alright?"

Releasing a small fire trap near them. They gasped in fear and took a step back.

"Lady Inquisitor have you gone mad?!" one of the tutors said shocked.

"Do you think that was funny?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"What? What are you – _ah_!"

Releasing a bigger fire trap at them, closer to them.

"I said: Do you think that was fucking _funny_?"

The two tutors ran out. Leaving just her and a frightened Ambassador.

"Please Inquisitor –"

"Don't you _'please Inquisitor'_ me!" she shouted in her face, "I have suffered enough of this horse shit! First you bring those two demons in here to torture me. With their poking, prodding, and measuring of every skin on my body! And you allow it to happen! Then you march me out in public looking like a court jester in this ridiculous outfit! Not only to everyone in Skyhold but to… to _him_!"

Heavy hurt on Josephine's face with a mingle of surprise of her ire, "I'm sor –"

Just then her door swung open loudly along with an all too familiar voice, "What's going on? Are you alright Inquisitor?!"

Her tirade halted as she swung her head in horror.

_No! Not again!_

Lifting her skirts up and making a mad dash to the balcony, jumping off. Hearing the frantic pleas of her to stop. Over shadowing that was the mighty roar from her dragon. Swooping under her, carrying her away.

Not too far though.

She was just a couple mountain peaks away. She could see Skyhold, but Skyhold couldn't see her. Katja just… needed some time to collect herself. Feeling so revolting at herself to be reduced to a pudgy, girly, monstrosity. Weak. Jettisoned. Shameful.

Landing on a clearing at the base of the mountain. Thick conifers surrounding the clearing and a semi-frozen stream a little ways away. Feeling Minstrel's bulky muscles ripple from impact and the heavy _swoosh_ of her wings. The trees billowed and swayed from the wind created from her wings. Jumping off to the mixture of rock and dirt, but landing on her butt instead.

_These stupid, fucking heels! _She cursed.

Tearing the belts that held them on her sore feet and throwing the damn things into the woods. One of them had a broken heel to boot. Huffing, puffing, and growling into the cold air. If there was one good thing with the amount of layers she was in, is that it softened the blow to her backside. Not by much though.

Speaking of which!

Proceeding to tear and rip at her corset. With a satisfying yank she was free from the constrictive garment. With the same yanking, pulling and general pissed off motions the rest of the gown came off. Letting out a joyous yell into the mountain from her freedom. And from breathing no doubt! Minstrel roaring just as gladly with her. Feeling the tickling of the cold on her skin that caused gooseprickles. Not resisting rubbing her perked breasts, shoulders, and arms with an open palms. Feeling more of herself.

Then, proceeded to, with less vigor, pull out the pins and untie the plaits in her hair. Letting the length cascade unbound down her back and having it run through her fingers. The process had her run her hands on her face. Pulling her palm back revealed the makeup that was subsequently smeared.

_Oh… that's right…_ she thought bitterly, _this shit._

Minstrel nuzzled her with a scaly snout. Katja smiled at her dragon's affection. Caressing her mind that she is still strong. Worthy of her companionship. Minstrel yelped deeply, content.

Stretching out and casting two heat-without-fire balls that circled her to keep the cold away. Ripping part of the gown before walking contently to the semi-frozen stream. Minstrel's heavy thuds of her paws behind her. Sharp clinks of her claws on the mixture of rock and earth. The stream itself was a rushing storm in the middle. The banks themselves were frozen solid.

Commanding Minstrel to use her tail and claws to break apart a section of the frozen water. Helping her by using some of her fire mana. Satisfied, she backed away.

Katja knelt on the bank and dipped the satin from her torn gown into the water. Using her mana to heat the cloth. Rubbing it on her face to remove the gross makeup. Rinse and repeating the process until the specks of the powder, eyeliner, and lipstick was removed. Revealing her true face that was concealed from the feminine mask. Standing and unceremoniously dropping the makeup encrusted cloth on the embankment.

_Now what to do?_

She needed to return to Skyhold eventually. Prove that she wasn't a weak thing that wears gowns. She wasn't weak at all!

_Then why did you run?_

It wasn't her they were seeing. The Inquisitor that they needed. It was counter to her nature to be weak or show weakness in something. Weakness gets you hurt. Killed. Nature proves that over and over. This is no different. If Josie wants her to show the Inquisition's strength via herself, she mustn't be seen in something as weak as gowns or dresses. Something so delicate.

She kept trying to convince her to let her go in armor. Armor is strong, tough! "No, no!" she says.

_Is there something here that I'm not understanding?_

More than likely!

_I'm pulling Josephine out and have her explain why this is so important! In _normal_ clothes! Then, I'm going to do something to prove to everyone in Skyhold that I'm not delicate! Especially to him._

Mind made up, she settled herself on Minstrel's back – clutching on to her as she ascended. Hearing the strong beats of her wings as she flew back to Skyhold. Pouring more of her mana into her little heat balls to keep her warm from the cold wind.

They were above Skyhold when she commanded Minstrel to swoop above her balcony. As she did so, Katja jumped off. Whirling a whip of light from her hands to wrap around a post. Using her legs to absorb the impact of her colliding to the stone face. Stretching the light whip in a grapple fashion until she was just above the stained glass window on her balcony. Dissipating her light grapple completely, falling softly on her feet on the stone. Dissipating her heat balls as well.

On entering her chambers it was empty of inhabitants. Seeing the burn marks on the stone where she casted her fire traps at Josephine.

A huge guilt sensation welled in her heart.

_She didn't deserve that from me. What a temper I have._

Sighing heavily before going into her closet and putting on simpler clothes for her to wear. Trousers, tunic, boots. Easy. Brushing out the tangles in her moon hair. Finding herself presentable at the least. Walking uneasily closer to the door that connects her chambers to the main hall. Peeking out just a little. There were a lot more people talking about. She was about to close the door completely and climb her way to Josie's office when some visiting dignitaries starting talking about her.

"Monsieur Henry did you see the Lady Inquisitor this morning? Absolutely ravishing she is."

"Indeed. Though, I will admit I've seen in her in plainer fashion and it never fails to put a smile on my face. She has an divine beauty to her. The Maker must have put some extra effort into her."

"Oh yes! Her hair looks like the moon and eyes that are rubies!"

"The Lady Inquisitor is something holy. All you need to do is look upon her and the mark on her hand and just know that she truly is Andraste's Herald."

"Yes. It lets me know I made the right decision to help support the Inquisition."

"I as well Monsieur Louis. Did I tell you that I was here when she sat in judgment of that Tevinter Magister – oh what was his name? – Alexius, that right!"

"She judged a Tevinter magister? Do tell!" And from there he, well, extravagantly recanted her judgment of the magister. "If it was me Monsieur Louis, I would have given him the axe."

"But you can't deny her logic of the situation. Too little is known of this Corypheus madman. Pains me to say that too many of us let emotions rule us. Especially back in Orlais. It's refreshing that a leader goes about thinking logically."

"Oh yes. Beauty, intelligence, and the strength to rule a nation. A woman after my heart."

"Bah! I believe she maybe already taken. Haven't you heard? The Inquisitor and the _Commander_."

"Ser Cullen?! Stop breaking my heart!"

"You're not the only one who's heart is broken. Some of the ladies and gentlemen here are greatly disappointed and heartbroken."

"Astounding! A templar and a mage. Nothing wrong with a little _forbidden_ romance, eh?"

"He's not a templar anymore monsieur."

"Oh! Let me keep my fantasies."

Katja closed the door. It wasn't too often she would hear candid conversations from dignitaries. Often she sensed they were being dishonest or omitting something. But, she was glad to hear the she was having a positive effect on people. Even if it came to them being heartbroken that she and Cullen were together.

Her… Cullen… together. As in romantically. As in courting.

How could she be so _stupid!_

She had been so preoccupied ever since they admitted their feelings of each other that she did realize that was what their relationship was now! He was courting her! Or... she was courting him. Whichever!

_He-Who-Walks-Beside. That's how Havardr described him, but now I get it! He saw him being with me. As my partner. Equals._

New fucking uncharted territory.

Her whole body heating up at the thought of them courting each other. Never being courted before. Is there a process to it? When she told him that they needed to see where things go she referred to their feelings. Unknowingly consenting to a romantic relationship. Maybe this is what courting is. People are supposed to court before they have sex. Well, with those they care for romantically. She could do that. Though it's not going to stop her fantasies of rutting him into Skyhold's stonework.

She still hated that he saw her in a frilly dress! Looking like an Orlesian porcelain doll.

Back to the mission at hand. Gathering some courage, she reopened her door and walked into the main hall. Those closest to her stared at her, but said little other than a respectful "Inquisitor" and the soldiers saluted. Walking those tense steps to Josephine's office. Sighing when she wasn't around, but her assistant was there dropping off a report.

Realizing it was her, she curtsied deeply and asked, "Lady Inquisitor, how may I serve you?"

"Do you know where Josephine is?"

"She left in a hurry upon seeing your dragon moments ago. Perhaps she is there. If it would please you, I can bring her here if you wish Lady Inquisitor."

"Please."

"Right away." Curtsying again before leaving to retrieve Josephine.

Walking around Josephine's desk when the missive that the assistant left caught her eye. The unbroken, red wax seal bore a familiar sigil. The wild stallion with a rising sun.

_"Katja, my dearest, what are our words?"_

_"'Modest in temper, bold in deed' daddy."_

_"Excellent sweetheart. Carry those words tightly. Too many of the Maker's Children use their extreme behaviors to gain an earthly foothold in this world. Do not let their words or deeds topple you like an Orlesian puff cake."_

_A giggle at the thought of those fluffy, puffy, and all-too-good sweet tiny cakes._

_Big, round, sparkling red eyes drinking in her father's words, as she was held tightly within his muscled arms. Faintly hearing the beating of his heart. The smell of incense, pipe tobacco, and parchment-musk from long hours reading on his soft, supple, cotton clothes. His breath smelled of muddled mead with a touch of tart juniper berries. _

_In the discorded background of the child's mind she thinks, _This is how all daddies should smell like.

_The smells bring comfort and gentleness to her restless spirit. Calming her to listen to him even when she doesn't understand the meaning from her all-too-young naivety. His short-cropped, salt and peppered beard tickling the top of her head._

_"And, this is important my Kat; never be content to sit idly while the world spins its wheels when one is broken. Be firm on the right thing – the moral thing. Do not ask for permission to do so. You will always be remembered for your deeds even when you pass on to the Maker and Andraste. Even the deeds you and the world wishes to forget."_

A deep longing echoed within her heart from the memory.

She remembered that moment well. How could she not? It was the last time she was held my him hours before her forced departure to the Circle. His words made her brave to face the confinement of the Circle and the Time of Evil that occurred within it.

_"Daddy, are you sad? I didn't mean to make you sad."_

_"No sweetie. I'm… I'm just thinking of how I'll miss you."_

_"I don't wanna go to the Circle dad. I'll miss you too."_

_"I know."_

_"If I don't burn the drapery again; can I stay? It was an accident."_

_"… No. You have to go. You'll be learning all about magic. It'll be like one of those adventures you like to read."_

_"Can't Serah Nicola teach me about magic?"_

_"No, only a mage can teach you about magic."_

_"That's not true daddy. Havardr's been teachin' me about magic."_

_"Do not talk about that at the Circle!"_

_"But –"_

_"Promise me!"_

_The child became scared and uncertain of her father's harsh words begging something so sacred from her. All promises are sacred._

_"Please my Kat, you have to promise me. Do not let them know of this spirit that talks to you in your dreams."_

_"But why daddy? He's my friend."_

_"Just… just promise me."_

_"… I promise."_

Katja wanted to tear the letter open but at the same token, wanted to run from it like it was the Blight. Her hand shook when a finger ghosted around the dips and curves around the waxed sigil. From the wavy hair of the stallion's mane, it's long galloping legs, and the perfect sphere of the sun. Not realizing that her eyes started to mist.

_"… promise me."_

_I broke a promise._

The same hand that touched the sigil, traced a pattern on her forehead as a greater pain in the shape of a sunburst made of lyrium. It had long since faded – pulled from her skin – but the memory burned like the inky touch of the lyrium. Along with the secret, sickly grin of the Knight-Commander that gave it to her.

_"I see your essence my Snow Kitten. You are pure and virtuous. Return to goodness. To wholeness."_

She then heard the distant, quick paced walking along with a thick Antivan accent from a certain woman. Panicking, she picked up the letter, put it discreetly within her breast bind and resumed her neutral expression – quickly wiping and blinking away unshed tears. Pushing the longing, hurt, painful memories away.

The door nearly flung off its iron hinges.

"Lady Inquisitor!"

Cocking her brow at her slightly ruffled expression and the force of Josephine opening the door. Rushing to her as dignified as possible. Grey eyes shot with worry and fear. Along with the bronze pair of the Commander and the blue of the Spymaster.

Gulping heavily when she saw him. Fortifying herself to stay in place.

"Are you hurt Inquisitor?! When you dashed out, you gave me such a fright! And I'm so sorry if I had upset you!" Josephine quickly rambled out.

Katja clasped her hands together, "No, I should be the one apologizing. I let my temper get the best of me." Seeing the small spots on the ends of her coat and the tips of her shoes from the heat of her fire trap. Touching the burned ends of the purple and gold coat. They were unnoticeable from a distance, but so close she could see them and the acrid smell from it.

Strong pulls of guilt constricted her heart. Surging her mana and released a Healing spell on Josephine. Who scrunched her shoulders at the surprise cast on her. Obviously having little to no interaction with magic.

"I'll… I'll try to do better with my temper Josie. I promise."

All promises are sacred.

"I should be the one apologizing Inquisitor. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I didn't realize the intensity to your aversion to the whole idea of dressing up would be."

Katja sighed, "It's not the thought of 'dressing up' it's just… I don't have fond memories of outfits that look like gowns or robes." It was the simplest answer that encompassed a wide range of memories and emotions. Looking quickly at both the Commander and Spymaster.

"Oh… I didn't realize." Katja noticed the frown and furrowing of her brows of sadness.

"And the other thing was that… well, we are going into a dangerous situation. It would be difficult for me to maneuver with a gown on and monstrous heels. If the assassin shows themselves and I'm the closest one to stop them, I need to move quickly."

The diplomat sighed and shook her head, "You are correct on that. Perhaps, I've been looking at this all wrong."

Katja quirked her brow, but continued to listen.

"Perhaps it would be beneficial to introduce ourselves as a neutral party. We would still be as guests from the Grand Duke, but as a neutral party to the peace talks. Though unusual, it won't be unheard of."

Wheels and gears turned in her head at the thought, "We would then be privy to the negotiations and any information to the parties involved. Delegating the best possible solution for peace while quietly hunting for the assassin. We will be seen but paid little mind since it will be perceived by the Orlesians that we have little to lose or gain."

All three looked at her strangely.

The Antivan blinked rapidly at Katja's logical monologue, "Um, well, yes. That, would be the case."

"It will help with our reputation across Thedas that we are a separate body of law. This will be our first and best chance of doing so."

"That as well and, ah," she laughed softly that was out of place, "you won't have to suffer through typical dress then. By Orlesian standards. It will be formal though."

Josephine nearly jumped backwards from the force of Katja's triumphant shout, "Thank the Maker!"

The Commander sported his customary grin and Leliana chuckled.

Katja would still receive her tutors instructions and her fashion designer would be directed to a more formal attire. More pleased about the circumstance than when it all started.

She still hated their pompous attitudes though. That's life right?

After she finished her supper, she reached into her breast bind to pull out the letter she had hidden away. Looking and staring at it for the longest time before gaining the courage to break the seal and read it.

_To: Lady Montilyet the Ambassador of the Inquisition,_

_I am eternally grateful for your intervention with my daughter. I am pleased to say that preparations here at Ostwick have been slow, but we will soon arrive at Skyhold to see her. More than likely after your dealings at the Winter Palace. I wish the success of the Inquisition on the Grand Game. Truth be told, you'll have better luck at the Grand Game than fitting her into a dress. May you have Andraste's patience on that._

_I have so many questions for my Kat. I've often thought of what she looks or acts like. Am I safe to assume that she is still strong of will and rough-houses with the boys? Perhaps it's parental intuition that lets me think that._

_As for your question as to how I would know, without looking on her, that she is my daughter, the simple answer is that I don't know for sure. However, once we see each other, I and her mother will know. That is the safe answer. We will know._

_Don't think that we don't know of her deeds. It's heartening to know that she has taken our Words to heart. Though, there is a rumor that's a little concerning. I understand the nature of rumors, but there is also a grain of truth to them. Do not tell me she has a dragon as a pet. If true, I need to know how that came about and who convinced her. No, no, don't bother, I'll find out sooner or later the validity._

_And an equally concerning rumor as well. I must admit that I've known of it for some time, however, the frequency has increased among our family and other noble houses that have visited Skyhold. I must know so it's not a shock to her mother or me: is the Commander courting my daughter? I know of his good standing within the Inquisition. But, I know what he once was. It's just a surprise that after her tenure at the Circle that she would consent to it._

_Anyway, I have spoken to the Queslier's. They have agreed to hold their advances for the moment, but not for very long. Irvin has been particularly vocal. I must sincerely apologize for the unfortunate politicalness of the whole mess. However, that's what it was: politics and alliances. Their quietness on the matter may end if the Inquisition gains any sort of favor with the Empress however._

_May the Maker have mercy._

_From: Roderick Gregory II; the Head of House Trevelyan; Teyrn of Ostwick; and Father of Katja Ruthine I, the Heir of House Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor of the Inquisition_

Folding the parchment back the way it was and melting the wax _just-so_ with a _tiny_ fire spell so that it would appear unbroken and the sigil intact. She let out a single sob and wiped the two tears that fell from her eyes.

Gasping in surprise as a loud knock echoed in her quarters. Quickly hiding the letter under her bed pillows and calling out to whomever was at the door. Composing herself when she felt the all-too-familiar pull of him. Smiling at seeing him. Letting his familiar scent of dried thyme waft into her nose.

"Good evening Cullen."

"You as well Inquisitor."

His masculine hands held her shoulders as he pressed his forehead onto hers. His liquid bronze eyes gazed into her that filled her with unsung joy. Letting the heat course in her breast and more primal places. Finding the gesture oddly comforting.

"I hope that you aren't busy… or if this is too bold of me." He quietly, shyly asked.

Gently smiling and blindly feeling for his hands to cup with hers, "No. Never."

Cullen grinned at that but faded to one she had seen him wear when he was unsure, "I was worried when you leapt off the balcony. You…"

"I'm sorry." She said to cut his words, "I didn't mean for my… upsetness at Josie to inadvertently transfer to you. I didn't want you to see me weak."

Cocking his brow in what she thought was amusement when he wrapped his arms around her. Feeling the prickles of herself melt away feeling the warm armor, the musk from the fur, and his natural scent of dried thyme. His stubble scratching the top of her head.

"Funny how you saw me when I thought I was being weak in front of you."

"You weren't weak at all!" she quickly countered, "You were fighting a battle to control your life. That can never be weak."

He chuckled, the vibrations echoed into her chest, "Just like you can never be weak when you're wearing a gown."

Katja's whole body flared at the mention of that disasterpiece of a gown.

Cullen continued, "Though it was rather strange to see you in such attire."

Sighing in disgust, "You wouldn't believe how strange and out-of-place I felt wearing it."

"Apparently. When you came to see me, I had no idea Lady Josephine was being that harsh on you. Although, wearing a gown isn't the end of the world Inquisitor."

Feeling rather small and childish of herself, "I know… it's just… hard to explain. Other than what you know."

"I think I understand. The first time that I went out in public without my armor on I literally felt exposed and vulnerable. Am I suspect that was your reaction?"

Chuckling, "You could say that." It was the closest to her inner-feelings on the matter.

"Well, at least now there is a median to be had." Cocking a grin at her, "Though try not to set Josephine on fire."

Sniggering at that, "_Technically_ I didn't. But, I still feel bad about it. I'll come up with something to make it up to her."

"I know you will. And, um, if I may…" cupping her chin and blushing while coming closer to her lips.

Eagerly, jumping up to meet him. Her hands digging into his primed hair. Taken a little aback by her enthusiasm, but quickly returning it. Slowing her down to savor the sweetness of their closeness.

* * *

"Grey you're heavy." The small child said to the mountain wolf who had lazily draped itself across her abdomen. She was perturbed but she didn't mind. Spending the day looking at the clouds and admiring the shapes.

The gentle breeze wafted the smell of the pines and oak trees. Dandelion seeds floating in the air. And the heady perfume of blacklotuses and rashvine needles. The comforting earthy musk of her wolves surrounded her – making a furry barrier between her and the world.

Eventually she tired of the self-appointed task and her tummy started to rumble. Wordlessly commanding Grey and the other wolves around her to move away. Time for a hunt!

The wolves sensing this, howled eagerly. Touching the familiar leather strap across her chest that held her dagger. Merging just a little to heighten her senses. Sniffing the air for prey.

The wind blew just a little and the scent of a buck wafted into her nose. Making her click her tongue. The other wolves sensed this as well. Running down wind of the buck. Homing in on the deer. The brush scraped the child's knees, but food was the main concern.

Hunting. Sneaking. Stalking. Flanking the deer at intervals. Until it was her that landed the deadly blow with her dagger. Slitting it's throat. The blood spraying on her face. The deer screamed high pitched but quickly stopped it's inevitable fight for life. She howled triumphantly with her wolves of the kill.

Pressing her dominate mind on the wolves and showing her growling teeth. Though some were missing from her growth. They backed away, letting her be the first to eat. As was her right as Alpha.

Using her bloodied dagger and hands, she cut away part of the hindquarters. This would satisfy her hunger. Warming her hands to cook the meat – searing the gamey flesh and pouring it's bloody juices out. Running and mixing with the blood on her hands. Humming happily once she bitten into the meat. Her stomach rolling and demanding more. Knowing that she might not get another full meal soon. Berries and vegetation were well and good, but meat filled her like no other. Hunts were not always successful. The strong survive and the weak perish.

Repeating the motions until she had her fill, then allowed the other wolves theirs. In turns in accordance to rank among them.

Taking the steps to a tiny, flowing brook to wash herself of the blood and juices of the deer meat. Drinking the water as well. Fresh and clean. Burping and chuckling at that. Washing the blade of her dagger next. Taking a brief moment to look at the sigil on the hand guard of a galloping stallion and a rising sun. Washing away the blood that accumulated on the embossed sigil. Putting it away happily.

Noticing her refection in the water of the brook, taking a moment to look at herself.

Her fake-brown dye was still in place, but leaves and twigs had accumulated and stuck out haphazardly. Red eyes looking back at her with serious, haunted intensity. Her face round and innocent-like. Dirt stuck to her like a second skin.

Not particularly happy with her filthiness, she decided on an impromptu bath. Dirt flowed off her body and down the water. Along with the dye in her hair and the twigs and leaves. Sighing contently and looking at herself another time. Her moon hair had wrapped around her face, neck, shoulders, and down her torso.

The man jolted awake. Startled by the dream. Next to him his wife came too.

"Did… did you dream Morica?"

"I did." She smiled softly, sad.

"It was _her_." Deep, aching longing constricted in the man's chest.

A tear flowed down his wife's cheek, "I know. It was another dream of her."

"Somehow, it was more than a dream. Just like last time." He said, caressing the decorative pine box between them. Huddling close to protect it.

Their hands wrapped around the box no bigger than a small tome like a life-line. Praying that these dreams were true and a merciful side-affect with the proximity of the item contained within. Their sigil embossed with gold of the stallion riding the sun.

Taking care to look around the room with fear and paranoia before he dared to open the box with his wife. Gazing reverently at the sacred, procured, _stolen_ item. Feeling that much closer to the person with whom it belonged to.

It was a thick glass vile no bigger than a finger filled with blood and a magical enchantment. A single iron circlet wrapped around it to protect the glass and powered the enchantment. Embossed on the iron was the name of the blood's owner.

Katja Ruthine Trevelyan.

"She's alive Morica." A single sob escaping the man's throat, "She's alive and _safe_."

* * *

**[A.N.]** A big thank you to mariaelaine87, Thisperra, Saileach, Meikhaila, and dekicobee for the favs/follows! And reviews from Princess of Mirkwood2, laurieann. Krueger. 7, Rae and Meikhaila. :)

Oh boy… did I just a hint that something traumatic happened at her tenure at the Circle that has yet to be included? Something that affected her mental chemistry that had nothing to do with her being a 'hermit' for 18 years? And I use the term lightly on her. Since, ya know, she was only a hermit when it came to her own species.

Oh god. Oh my fucking GOD! I just realized something in the middle of writing this chapter… I realized where (canon-wise) were I am. And holy Andraste's _succulent pussy_… this is gonna wind up being a 40 to 50 chapter story! _Shit_! Do you guys realize how daunting that is?! But… you know what?

I'm not worried. I'm actually kinda excited. Despite me being a (disciplined) fatal procrastinator, (a sassy) creative enthusiast, and a (closet) sap for down-to-earth romances – I'm diggin' this story.

And I love the fact that some of you (okay, a lot) have chosen to take time out of your day to read my sappy fanfiction of romantically-shy Cully-Wully and my wild, tomboy Inquisitor. Even when I can make you guys cry if I chose to. Major turn on to me creative-wise. I mean – _hello!_ – we're at chapter 17 and they haven't had sex yet! Must be doin' somethin' right that over 50 peeps thought "Ya know, this story is alright, I'll stick around to see the next chapter."

Well, that's enough of my rambling. See you guys on the next bi-weekly update!


	19. Pride and Joy

Chapter 18: Pride and Joy

Well, the Winter Palace was a sight to behold.

Turns out the people that were fighting each other had more in common than they realized. Along with humiliating the Grand Duchess was the succulent cream on the cake. As they say it's all part of the Grand Game. Though she had to admit the funniest part of the evening was finding Gaspard's captain tied up in Celene's bedchambers.

All men love to jizz no matter who they are jizzing into.

Katja was just glad that whole affair was behind her.

They even had an ally named Morrigan. An apostate like herself that had knowledge which goes beyond a Circle mage's meager education in comparison. Ditto. Welcome to the club!

It wasn't easy though. The quiet alliances, backstabbing, and gossip that was besieged by the nobles. She had to admit, there were some good times. Predominantly when she was in Cullen's presence. Apparently, he had a small amount of admirers that kept giving him unwanted attention.

"Ow! Did you just pinch my bottom?!"

"I'm sorry. My hand slipped."

She didn't know whether she should have set the woman's hand on fire or guffaw on the floor. The way he said it was just priceless though. It _did_ give her ideas.

"Not enjoying the attention then?" she asked sarcastically just to tease him a little.

"_Hardly_. Anyway, yours – " he cleared his throat from exasperation and lowered his tone, "yours is the only attention worth having."

It was gentle, soft and spoke volumes of his quiet, shy affection towards her. Feeling like she got shot straight to the moon and back with the adrenaline it gave her limbs. They were close enough to where his admirers wouldn't overhear, not that it mattered much to her. A little private teasing wouldn't hurt.

So she cupped his arm, and leaned into his ear and whispered, "I wouldn't mind some of _your_ attention either."

Instantly telling that he was stifling one of his blushes by the way the tips of his ears turned red. It was rather mischievous of her to leave him to defend himself straight away.

Cullen did get back at her for the tease.

Once nearly all the festivities were winding down, she was able to get a brief respite from the celebrations and breathe a moment on the quiet balcony. Katja wasn't physically exhausted but mentally. Feeling his pull before he announced himself.

"There you are," he said coming to her side, "everyone's been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment." He then took a precursor glance at her hunched over expression, "Are you alright?"

Very happy that he came to her, so she smiled despite her exhaustion, "I'm just worn out. Tonight has been _very_ long."

Smiling and nodding his head, "For all of us. I'm glad it's over." Taking one of his hands to soothe her on the shoulder. Grinning at the small comfort he was giving her, touching the hand with her own to show silently that she appreciated the gesture.

Sporting his customary grin that she associated when he had a devious thought, "I may never get another chance so… I must ask," he backed away from her, bowed and presented his hand to her, "may I have this dance my Lady?"

Nearly wanting to say 'no'. She barely made it through the dangerous dance she had with the Duchess in front of the entire court; in spite of Josephine's high-praise she reported from the other nobles. However, the thought of being close to him, holding her romantically was enough for her to sway herself.

"Of course!" saying all-too-eagerly, "I thought you didn't dance?" Taking up the positions her tutors taught her – right on his shoulder and left in his hand.

"For you? I'll try."

His steps were quick and mechanical and lacked the flow and grace of the more experienced. Quick to follow his steps since he was technically leading.

On the second time he stepped on her feet, he almost broke apart their embrace with a horrified "I'm sorry!"

Pulling him back, this time closer than they were. He wasn't restraining the flush on his face. "Perhaps we should… be closer and slower." She whispered into his ear. Their bodies flush as she held him tighter. Taking a bit more of a predominate role in their dance.

Cullen was happy to comply. She saw the little pulse on his neck throb and the swallow of the lump in his throat. This time he seemed more sure and at ease. Her steps small and easy for him to follow. Beginning to relax for the both of them, she laid her head on his chest – turning it just enough to look up at him and her ear hearing the muffled beat of his heart. Looking down at her with his happy flushed expression. She smiled; happy with where she was.

He kissed the top her head. The loving heat sent tickles through her spine. She reciprocated by kissing his clean-shaven cheek. Taking a brief moment to savor his scent of earthy dried thyme on her lips.

Their eyes warmly greeting each other; she recognized his tender expression as one of joy. Their minds synced perfectly when they met by their lips. For that sweet, heavenly moment, any trouble that was met during that whole evening was but a distant memory. The hands that were holding broke apart – her hand running along his strong jaw, and his on her upper back. Their embrace tighter as they both sighed contently.

Reluctantly bringing herself out of that wonderful daydream at the Winter Palace.

Sighing happily. Things couldn't have gone better considering the circumstance. Finishing up her paperwork that had accumulated from her absence, Fade-ripped tutoring, and Grand Game business. Which took a whole day once she returned, a little of the evening, and she had woken early to complete the rest. Hating this part of being the Inquisitor, but if she was going to do it she was at least going to be methodical and thorough.

Yelping out a "Yes!" in glee once the last document was sighed.

Now she had the rest of the day to consider what to do.

One thing was for certain. She was restless. It was unlike her to sit still for very long. Katja knew how to sit still and be patient; she just didn't like doing so. What she needed was physical exertion! The Inquisitor couldn't be getting soft by any means.

Running into her closet and garbing herself into her battle gear. Belting on her daggers; feeling the familiar weight on her back. Tying her hair in a tight braid and wrapping her lucky headband across her forehead to keep the rest of her unruly hair in place.

Dully noting the time of morn. It was still a little early and the training yard will still be full of Cullen's recruits training their morning drills.

_Which means he'll be their supervising._ A sly, happy, coy grin formed on her face. _A good Inquisitor should always make sure the Commander is prepared._

Happily walking her way to the training grounds. The ringing and clashing of metal filled her ears. Taking a stance next to the Commander to see the soldiers training their morning drills. The smell of freshly made mud, sweat, and steel thick in the air.

"Inquisitor, good morn to you." The Commander saluted her with a fist to his chest.

"And to you as well Commander." Repeating the saluting motion back to him. "How are the soldiers doing?" she asked.

"Very well Inquisitor. Are they up to your standards?"

She nodded with a glimmer in her eye, "You and the lieutenants have done a fine job overseeing them." Gazing into the throng of soldiers training with an analytical eye, "Though some of them need work." Remarking on a lieutenant reprimanding a solider for faltering on his drill.

"In time Inquisitor."

Nodding and humming in approval, "Truth be told, I'm here for personal training. It's been a while since had a good fight."

"Of course Inquisitor." A warm light cased in his bronze eyes, "Would you care for an escort to the training dummies?"

Giving him an equally warm look, "Why? When my 'training dummy' is right here?"

Cocking his brow at her, "Is that a challenge Inquisitor?"

"Perhaps." Smiling, knowing that he was taking the bait. "That was a fine dance at the Winter Palace. But, I'm more interested in a different sort. One with more… sweat and vigor."

Giving an equally challenging smirk of his own before turning and waving for her to follow. Leading her to the practice weaponry made of wood. Providing wooden daggers for her.

"Oh no Commander, I want a challenge." Instead, she reached for the wooden sword. "I haven't practiced my swordsmanship in a while."

Nodding and grabbing a sword as well. "Then I won't use a shield."

Shooting a wicked grin, "Are you sure that's wise? I _am_ a mage."

"I just may surprise you. Plus it would be beneficial when I can no longer Smite."

"Are those the rules then? Along with personal challenges?"

He nodded, then, removed his cloak and sword, setting them down on the table. Katja did the same with her daggers. Liking the mental image of their weaponry together nestled with his warm cloak. In a way, the cloak was holding on to their weapons for safekeeping.

"Lead the way Commander."

Taking her to an empty sparing ring and each of them taking a side – stances positioned. Each looking each other in the eye – waiting for the other to make the first move. Calming her beating heart; excited beyond belief. He didn't realize how beautifully deadly he looked in her eyes.

Perhaps she should… test the Commander's reflexes. Warm up those muscles. Make him _sweat_.

Knowing that on a strength scale the Commander upped her on that. However, she had speed. Using that to her advantage. Every dodge or counter he provided excited her a little more. Soon, becoming a rhythm between them. Attack, dodge, counter, and back off. Just to keep it interesting she would cast small fire, ice, or lightning at him and he, in turn, would provide templar techniques at her. Red and bronze eyes locked into a competitive focus. Faintly hearing cheering in the background.

"_C'mon Ash before your dad gives you another chore!"_

"_Comin' m'lady! I got our sticks right here!"_

"_Nice! Wah-_cha_!"_

"_Ha! Miss me! Ker-_pow_!"_

"_Ash you are too_-oo_ slow!"_

Smiling of happier memories surfaced when she was little and she would 'spar' with the cook's son. Although the nature of the sparing matches back then were very different to the one she currently faced with the Commander.

She was feeling aroused. Plain and simple.

As the sparing continued the Commander became more sweaty, hair curling at the ends, and the gleam in his eyes more heated. She could tell he was feeling it too, but in a more controlled way. His was more of a slow, steady burn while she was a robust flame quick to ignite.

At some point they both disarmed each other and pulled one another to the muddy ground. A close combat in hand-to-hand techniques. The roaring in the background became louder. Hyper aware of the Commander's hands on her touching her in a way that was between combative and sensual – reciprocating the touches when she would roll him over and assert her dominance. Tasting the mud and blood in her mouth; seeing the same on the Commander's bloody nose and caking mud in his wild, curled hair.

Eventually, she gained the upper-hand when she put him in a full-bodied choke-hold from his back. His armor not allowing him to reach that far back – a weakness she knew. Using her whole weight to keep him down with her. Her choke-hold just enough pressure to let him know that she had him and not too loose that he could head-butt her. The mud too slick for him to gain a foothold.

"Yield to me _my_ Commander." She whispered hoarsely, hotly into his ear. Feeling the tremble in his muscles from her words.

Taking several, deep breaths before raising his hands in submission; a content, accepting grin was plastered on his bloody, muddy lips. Only then did she release him from her hold. Several cries were heard.

It was then that she realized that a crowd comprising of Skyhold's military forces, messengers, residents and visitors were both cheering or bellowing in agony. Those that weren't surrounding the ring were up on the battlements in the same state. Katja had a distinct feeling that pockets were either being seriously filled or emptied.

Cullen was the first to get up and offered his dirtied, gloved hand to her. Happily taking it, but as she raised herself up, she slid a little on the mud and landed face first into his breastplate. Laughing with the crowd and the chuckle from the Commander. The chuckle was short-lived as the force of her colliding with the Commander caused a chain-reaction of him slipping backwards and them resuming being in the mud.

Katja rolled over and laughed harder with the crowd. Cullen meanwhile had a hand to his face in embarrassment. However, it was overshadowed by the laughter he admitted.

The second attempt of escape proved just as victorious as the first. The crowd shouting a dramatic "Nooo!"

Through her barking laughter she managed to say dramatically, "C'mon Commander we mustn't let the mud win! We have to escape!"

Sporting a smile with a serious tone, "There is no other choice Inquisitor, we have to crawl our way out!"

"Your right Commander! Good thinking!"

Wrapping one of their arms together in an interlocking fashion, while very steadily, using their knees and free hand to slowly crawl themselves out of the ring. The large crowd shouting cheers and encouragement, "Show that mud who's boss!" or "Go! Go! Go!" or "Kick that mud's arse!"

Once they reached the relative stability of outside of the ring did the crowd cheer triumphantly at their success. The ones closest to them helped them on their feet. Katja smiled and nodded at them. Putting a hand on his breastplate and released a healing spell on them both. Sighing as bruises mended and stamina regained itself.

"Alright! Shows over, back to your duties!" the Commander shouted. The undertones though were anything other than commanding. It was still enough for the crowd to begin to disperse.

"We need to do that again sometime." She said happily through her adrenaline high. "That was a lot of fun."

Chuckling and smiling at the thought, "Anytime Inquisitor. Although a bath may be needed at present."

Smiling as well, "Let's make an afternoon of it; me and you."

He spurted and coughed loudly at the suggestion.

"There you two are!" came the loud, bawdy voice of Bull. "And no thanks you Cullen. You cost me fifty silver!"

Varric was in tow beside him, "Oh? That fifty silver isn't complaining of its new home in my purse Tiny."

"What are you two talking about?" Katja asked. She was certain the reason why, but she wanted confirmation.

Cullen shook his head in a little disgust, "They were taking bets Inquisitor on which of us would win."

Varric chortled a laugh, "Team Commander Curly versus Team Inquisitorialness Kitten! The fight ending all fights of the age!"

Cassandra made her presence known with a frown, "It was disgusting. They were about to have another bet going on how many times you two would slip in the mud."

"You have to admit that dramatic finesse was much better as a crowd pleaser." Dorian came into the conversation.

"Bah! You're just sorry your profit found a new purse." Then Sera behind him. "But no worries, our other profit scheme isn't over yet."

Varric, Bull, and Dorian had horrified expressions and 'shushed' at her loudly.

Katja cocked a brow at them, "I don't think I want to know. Have your fun."

Varric smiled, "It'll be fun for everyone involved. Now, c'mon guys," he waved at the three instigators, "I'll give the losers mercy drinks for a good time and victory drinks to us winners." Bull, Dorian, and Sera whooped merrily at the sound of that and headed toward Herald's Rest.

"And you two," the all-too-serious Seeker said flatly, "are going to get cleaned up." The seriousness was a little lost when Katja noticed a ghost of a grin on her face.

She let it be and replied, "Of course Seeker." Along with Cullen's reply, "Right away Lady Cassandra."

* * *

The ride up the pathway to Skyhold was an arduous journey for the man and his wife. The Ambassador assured them that the road was once more vigorous than it was now. He could believe it considering they were going up a mountain side. They met the Ambassador at the rest point below the mountain base before continuing onward in their carriage. Horses would have been preferable, but his wife's ailments kept them in the slow pace of the carriage.

They exchanged pleasantries as were customary before the discussion turned to more serious matters. The Queslier's and his daughter.

"I ask Lady Ambassador that this discussion be on hold for the moment until we are settled in Skyhold. I – "

"He mean's 'we'," his wife, Morica, cut in, "are more pressed to see our daughter than discussions of politics. There will always be time for politics." Though her body was frail, her mind was still sharp.

"Of course Lady Trevelyan."

"Although I have to wonder Lady Ambassador: Does our daughter know of our coming? She _is_ the Inquisitor."

Noting the smile on the Antivan's lips, "After I received your missive a week ago, I worked with Lady Leliana to keep this visit hush-hush to her ears. We thought a surprise would be nice for her. So, we gave her extra paperwork to do to give us time to settle you two into the guest quarters."

Both he and his wife laughed.

"Pardon?"

"I apologize for finding that funny Lady Montilyet," his wife said smiling, "it's just that, she could never sit still for long as a child – a rather restless soul. Seeing her doing paperwork for hours at a time is rather amusing."

"Oh, well I'm glad you think so. Since this is a secret, I apologize that the reception will be lack luster than what you two are accustomed to."

"It is alright lady Ambassador," his wife said, "those types of receptions become dull affairs after a certain number. A quiet entry will be a welcome change of pace."

For the remainder of the ride, the Teryn looked out the carriage window, holding his sidepack close to him. Feeling the familiar weight of the pine box within.

At some point during the ride, Morica wrapped herself in a fur cloak – the cold bothering her bones and rattling her chest. "I've personally made sure that a fire be going for your condition Lady Trevelyan." The Ambassador assured. His wife nodded but said nothing.

The rest of the journey went smoothly, well, as smoothly as the rocky road would allow.

Once they were in the vicinity of the main courtyard all they could hear was the loud booms of cheers. Coming out of the carriage, they could see that possibly everyone in Skyhold huddled around a singular point. Raising his brows over what could possibly have everyone in the fortress so riled up. The Ambassador stopped what appeared to be a soldier and asked what was going on.

"The Commander and the Inquisitor are having a sparring match!" the soldier said ecstatically and dismissed himself to race forward into the throng.

Noting the way the Ambassador's jaw dropped as he and his wife looked at each other knowingly. He waved over one of his personal guards who took the customary stance next to his wife so she could hold the guard's arm along with his own to steady her. Then, they made the slow steps up one of the battlements to get an above perspective of the spectacle.

What he saw put a broad, wrinkled grin on his face and his wife's.

"Morica, does this not seem familiar to you?"

Not taking her happy, but sad eyes away from the spectacle, "I remember a certain little girl sparing with the cook's son with sticks in the courtyard."

"On several occasions."

Each time she would land a blow on the Commander he would say to himself, _"That's my girl."_ Gasping in awe when she called forth her magic in a blatant display of pure combative power – the discipline and control she displayed. That didn't keep him from being impressed as well by the Commander's control and discipline. Expecting nothing less from a highly-regarded former templar – perhaps 'retired' would be a more adept word.

He could even tell his wife was internally cheering for her. She had long since let go that Katja would never be the 'lady' that she aspired her to be. No... accepting the fact that she was meant for far greater things on this Maker's world than being a 'lady'. Accepting the fact that Andraste had chosen their daughter for a destiny that goes beyond their expectations as parents or the world's for that matter. Humbled by that fact – one from his own seed and his wife's frail womb could be so strong.

His repressed fatherly instincts releasing when the opponents disarmed each other and went hand-to-hand. The cheering from the crowd became louder. Neither he nor his wife missed the small unnecessary touches the Commander or their daughter would give or the smiles. He and his wife looked at each other knowingly.

"_It is true."_ He said to himself_, "Unfortunate trouble is ahead for you my Kat."_

The Commander let her win. He, Roderick Trevelyan, knew the art of that combat well enough when an opponent allowed themselves to be beaten. Even putting a façade of themselves wanting to continue.

"That boy always let her deliver the final blow." He said absentmindedly.

"He did that because he had a crush on her." Morica replied.

It could have been him, but he could hear her laughter when they slipped on the mud twice. Watching them analytically as they worked together to get themselves out of the ring. Watching the tingling glow of the green magic she casted on her and the Commander – deducing it was a healing spell.

He felt so proud. It welled and filled his chest that it was fit to burst. _"You're so strong my Kat. Just like I always knew you would be."_

Tearing his eyes away, but as he did so locked eyes with a tall, heavily muscled templar in the regalia of a Knight-Commander. Instantly recognizing the short-cropped sandy blonde hair, pale blonde beard with a grey-streak, and serious dark blue eyes that were very like his own. His wife turned and noticed the same templar. All three gave curt nods to each other as they passed.

"_It is good to see you too, son."_

Quietly making their way to the guest quarters with the Ambassador leading them. Once inside, the space was very warm for his wife, as was promised. Their belongings were being tended to and put into place by the servants. On a table, food had been prepared for them and a bottle of Urlic's special mead with juniper berries that was popular in Ostwick. A common brand, but one he was fond with. Settling his wife by the plush chair by the fire and removing the fur coat.

"I apologize if that wasn't how you intended on first seeing your daughter Teyrn and Lady Trevelyan." The Ambassador said mournfully.

His wife smiled and he barked a single laugh, "Would you be surprised that I expected something of the sort? That is very much like her."

"Really? And you would know of course." Turning to face the woman behind the voice who had come in unexpectedly

Though, not so unexpectedly once he realized who it was, "Lady Nightingale, a pleasure." Giving a polite nod to the Inquisition's spymaster.

"To you both as well Teyrn and Lady Trevelyan."

The Teyrn took a moment to analyze the woman – he knew how great of a spymaster she was and knew what her presence may mean. His wife clasped his hand out of his serious reverie with Nightingale and nodded at him. Giving orders to the busy servants to leave the quarters, they provided little protest to leaving duties unfinished. Walking stiffly to the table where the food and wine sat; taking the mead and four glasses with him back to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Settling the items on the low table. Once the door was locked leaving them alone he took the vacant chair next to his wife. Taking special delicateness of his side pack as he sat – knowing that Nightingale's eyes were on him.

"I must admit Lady Nightingale, your presence is either terrible or welcoming. Should I concern myself with ears or knives in the walls?"

She smiled, putting him a little more on edge, "No, not at present since I am here. I'm just here to settle some… curiosity."

The Ambassador sighed, "Really Leliana, they have just arrived."

"No, no. It's alright Lady Montilyet, I expected a visit at some point from the spymaster. Perhaps it is better to get it over with. Please, take a seat with me and Morica."

Both did just that – the Antivan with noble grace and the spymaster with calculated steps. Sitting opposite of them, he popped the cork off the mead bottle with age old practice. When the Ambassador protested that it should be them pouring out of politeness, he waved her off and poured each an exact amount in all four glasses.

"I hope Lady Nightingale is aware that it is considered poor manners to harm guests within a Hold. I hope this vintage doesn't sour my tongue." He said before taking the first sip before them, showing that he was unafraid if it was poisoned or any other trickery.

Nightingale laughed and took a sip of her own glass, "Why? You are about to satiate my curiosity at present. Hard to do that if you have a knife in the back or poison in your belly."

His wife and the Ambassador came too with their drinks. Though he could tell the Ambassador was not pleased with Nightingale's choice of words.

"Leliana, niceties before knives, remember?"

"I suppose that is the good thing with being old," Morica said dismissively, "you get tired of these run-around circles of the tongue we nobles weave ourselves in. Let us speak plainly, the Maker will know our intentions whether we hide behind niceties or not."

"Does not mean we need to be rude my lady."

"Well, lady Ambassador, you will learn that even rudeness has its place. Now, what is it you two wish to know? Our daughter or the business with the Queslier's first?"

"Perhaps the easiest subject." The spymaster suggested.

"The Queslier's then. I tried to warn you that their advances will press if the Inquisition gained any favor with the Empress." The Teyrn said disgustedly. "However, before we begin, let me have my pipe and tobacco." Fetching them from his coat pocket and decades experience stuffed the bowl and lit the tobacco. Puffing his pipe a few times contently, then he settled himself proper with his glass of mead in one hand and his pipe in the other. "Continue."

The Antivian Ambassador took a polite pause before asking, "It is partially both of you at fault for drawing up the alliance by marriage. Even though it isn't anything unusual between noble houses."

"We are aware Ambassador;" his wife began, "it was the most logical decision once Katja turned on her first nameday. The Queslier's are highly respected across the Free Marches and the Chantry. Their son is a good match with any sensible noble house. However, as the saying goes, 'Had I known what I know now _then'_. Bah… that fool boy wouldn't have even crossed our minds." Waving her hand in an attempt to dispel the unpleasant notion like a fly.

"Indeed." The Teyrn took up speaking after her, "Even if we convinced Bann and Lady Queslier to annul the contract, Irvin would still pursue our daughter regardless. Unfortunately he sees the stuffed and mounted trophy and not the danger the stag's horns presents. Especially with her… eyes on another."

The Ambassador and spymaster looked at each other knowingly.

"Though it begs the question of why the contract wasn't annulled once she went into the Circle. Noble houses aren't too keen on marring their children away if they are a mage."

"Your right Nightingale." Taking a brief pause to puff his pipe, "However, I was able to… maneuver the Ostwick court, along with Chantry consent, to keep her as the heir and the alliance. The Queslier's still consented despite that fact. The titles that came with her name were everything. Any noble house that married to her would have been granted a chance of Teyrnship. Since I maneuvered the Ostwick court into granting me that right two years before her birth, it would have passed on via right of succession.

"Being a mage was an unfortunate by-product of the contract. As harsh as that sounds. You don't know how pleasing it is to me to see her turning that disadvantage around."

"How may I ask that you were able to persuade the Chantry clerics to allow a mage to remain an heir?" That got the Ambassador's curiosity.

The Teryn smiled, "It is considered protocol to strip a mage born a noble their inheritance, a mage in the Circle has no use for it. However, there is a slight… misinterpretation in that protocol. She is the only heir for the Trevelyan bloodline on the first-born branch. I presented the case to the Chantry that without her the first-born branch of the Trevelyan line would cease. Many of the Chantry clerics agreed that preserving that line was important enough to grant a special exemption. It helped that Trevelyans are… on _very_ good terms with the Chantry.

"It was agreed that if she got her education in the Circle and passed her Harrowing without incident, that her inheritance, including becoming Teyrn, would be reinstated. Once that occurred she would then be able to leave the Circle without the stigma of being labeled an apostate. She'll still be under watch of the Order, but little else that would hinder her stance politically."

"Other than the other noble houses causing an uproar over having a mage as Teyrn." The Ambassador remarked dryly.

"True. Ostwick has never had a mage that had any significant power. However, Ostwick is more relaxed than many places with its attitudes toward mages. If you two recall there was little to no fighting when the Circle's disbanded at Ostwick. It was quite possibly the most peaceful rebellion than many other places experienced. I couldn't help but think that we were either lucky or Andraste had something to do with their peaceful departure."

"Consider that a blessing Teyrn that your city didn't become war-torn. If only that peaceful rebellion spread elsewhere in Thedas. I cannot think of how many lives would have been spared if other Circle's or Order branches would have followed Ostwick's example. Perhaps the Conclave would not have been necessary." The Ambassador mournfully stated.

Words could not describe where the Ambassador went with those statements. However, the Teyrn knew that without his intervention years ago, that Ostwick would have been another Kirkwall. Pleased to know that his efforts along with those who knew change had to come to the Order and Circle bore peaceful fruit. Along with frustrations that other places didn't see that.

"That was rather a gamble." The spymaster noted on what the Ambassador said along with his previous statements, "However, there are so many variables that has yet to come to play, it's a wonder the Queslier's are still pursuing the marriage. Firstly, she has never gone through a Harrowing. Therefore, she technically has no inheritance to speak of. Secondly, she is an apostate; one for more than eighteen years. Lastly, it's not necessarily true on the first-born part is it?"

It was then he turned a little angry that she knew, but his wife stopped him.

"Truly named Nightingale you are. Let me be clear, he would have gained all the first-born rights regardless of him not born of my body. He is every bit Trevelyan like his father. It was his choice though to give it up once she lived past her first nameday. He thought she had more right to the Trevelyan inheritance than he did."

"So, he's her half-brother?"

"If you want to be technical, yes."

"Um, who are we speaking of?" asked the Ambassador.

"I apologize, her brother among the templars. Perhaps you know him, the Knight-Commander Aedelric."

The Ambassador's jaw dropped, "You must be joking Teyrn Tervelyan! Knight-Commander Aedelric is her brother?! That big man? He's been with the Inquisition since we started at Haven!"

"I do not joke when it comes to my children." The Teyrn said sternly.

"I beg your pardon Teyrn Trevelyan. It's just… I never suspected it. They don't look very much alike."

It was then he turned quiet. Placing his nearly empty glass on the table and he leaned forward toward the Ambassador and gave her his most serious expression.

"Look at my eyes Ambassador, know that when you look her in the eye it is my eyes you are looking at. It is the same with Aedelric's. They both have my eyes no matter the color. They have Trevelyan eyes."

The Ambassador turned quiet and said, "I see." Knowing she understood his point.

Turning back into his relaxed state in the chair, "To answer those conditions: yes, the Queslier's on paper have no right to pursue the marriage contract since those conditions set forth by the Chantry were never met. Since the destruction of the Conclave they've had to turn to inexperienced clerics to try getting those conditions met. As much as it pains me to say it, Katja has no Trevelyan inheritance because of centuries old protocol. It is that protocol that absolves her Trevelyan name."

"Why are they even bothering then? The Circle's are disbanded, the Order is but a shell of its former self, and the Chantry has yet to elect a new Divine." The Ambassador remarked.

"Yes, all true. I suspect that they will soon see that it would be fruitless to try to mount a buck made of air. Although it hadn't stopped them on several occasions to push it along. From the impossible task of voiding the Chantry contract to lowly inciting fear of Katja resisting the temptations of demons since she has had no Harrowing. The latter died early in its stages once I heard the whispers of it." He said disgustingly at that fact. Taking a hardy swallow of the mead and long puff of his smoke in irritation.

"Then that matter would be settled soon?" the spymaster broke the uneasy ice that was there briefly.

"If they have any sort of sense, yes. Though Irvin would be a different story once we confirm she is our daughter. Even without the Trevelyan inheritance or the Teyrnship, she has gained an equal if not _more_ reaching status as Inquisitor and Andraste's Herald. Irvin will see that and pursue her. And it doesn't help that his head was filled with nonsense that she is his by right." Morica remarked with distain.

"Well, at least part of that problem is solved." The Ambassador said relieved, "So, this confirmation is just for the both of you?"

"Correct. The fact she can't legally claim the Trevelyan fortunes is a great joy to other members of the family. Though, I would prefer if the fortunes did direct her way."

"Perhaps something could be arranged?"

The Teyrn waved his hand is dismissal, the smoke from his pipe dancing from the motion, "No, no. I have unfortunately come to terms where that bit has fallen. That is another barrel of sour, stale ale that I would rather not open – especially when there are over a hundred of them. But, thank you for the offer lady Nightingale."

"If you change your mind – "

He waved in dismissal again.

"As you wish Teyrn. However, with that settled, there has been a thought on my mind on how you intend to prove the Katja is your blood daughter."

"You're very right Nightingale. We have… a way to know for certain that is more solid than parental wishing."

His wife grabbed his arm at the bare mention of it, the secret thing within his sidepack. "Roderick…"

"It is alright Morica. It is the only way to know for certain. But, let me be the one to ask a question to the spymaster. What is the first ceremony that happens to a new mage in a Circle? Before they even get settled into their quarters?"

The spymaster smiled, "I always wondered what happened to that and it wasn't just pure luck she outwitted capture."

The Ambassador coughed, not happy with being left out.

Instead of saying anything, he put his glass of mead away and took the secret thing out of his sidepack. Then placed it gently on the low table, opening the small pine box in the process. His daughter's phylactery glowed a radiant blue signaling her nearness.

The Ambassador sputtered not believing what she was seeing.

"When she escaped the Circle," he began without prompt, his expression turning grave and haunted, "I couldn't bear the thought of her going back. Not with everything that happened to her." His face contorted with fury, "What was done to her in the Maker's and Andraste's _holy name_. So I took it and made it seem as though she had it. Praying every _day_ that wherever she was, no matter how far, that she was alive and safe."

"Even if the Chantry denounced you for it? They don't take kindly to that level of theft." The Ambassador said with shock.

"It was a risk I was willing to take. If it came to light that we had it, I would have destroyed it myself. But, let me be clear Nightingale, Ambassador, what was done to her and the other children was of a greater offense to both the Order and the teaching of the Chantry than the theft of a single phylactery."

Grateful that both of them let that terrible subject go unquestioned; perhaps they knew in the back of their minds what it is he spoke of.

"The Burning of the White Rose in 9:23." Leliana said mournfully.

The Teryn pursed his lips. That painful memory surfaced and for her to make that connection truly says how thorough she is. What he ultimately had to do to protect his daughter. The extreme few who knew the truth behind that lie in Ostwick's history.

"I think…" his wife sadly said, "it would be best if we move past that foul subject."

The Ambassador shifted uneasily, "I believe you are right Lady Trevelyan."

He nodded and closed the pine box and put it back into his sidepack.

"It is safe to assume you wish to keep that a secret?"

"Not for us. For her. I can only guess the memories haunt her still. It wouldn't surprise me. I am proud to know that what happened didn't take away her integrity or since of self. Or her… ability to love."

The Ambassador and spymaster looked at each other again.

"Come now, neither me or my wife were born yesterday. Tell it true."

"It um, isn't official if that is what you're asking Teyrn." The Ambassador said tactfully.

He just chuckled, "But neither is it secret. What is left in the sky is the manner of relationship it is."

"Well, um…"

"Teyrn, if the Commander was any more in the sea of love he'd drown himself if he hasn't already."

"Leliana!" Lady Montilyet shouted slightly horrified, but was twisted by the grin on her lips and dusking of pink on her cheeks.

For once, he believed the smile on the spymaster's face was one of joy that her compatriots had found companionship in each other.

"Is it anything like the love King Alistair had with the Cousland Warden?" his wife asked perplexed. He knew she had a soft spot for romances. "You would know Nightingale; you were there travel companions during the Blight."

Keeping the smile on her face when she replied, "With the King and Cousland it was the sort of innocent love that would be in a romance. With the Commander and the Inquisitor, now that is the sort that inspires legends. Both are strong on their own and are capable of independent feats. They are nothing short of equals on that. Their love comes from mutual support."

The Ambassador rubbed her shoulder when she added in keeping that blush, "It doesn't help that they are adorable when they are being romantic. Though they are quiet and private about that."

* * *

**[A.N.]** A nice thank you to raya11gaara for the fav/follow! And reveiws from Meikhaika, Rae, and Princess of Mirkwood2. :)

Wow, this was the fastest that I have written a chapter and the most easiest to write. Only a few days into the bi-weekliness. I'm rather proud of myself!

Well, I'm sorry if this chapter is a little bit of a drag with half of it being dialogue. I realized when I brushed up on my DA lore a few weeks back that I've… ah… _forgot_ some things related to the world of DA. I might as well admit them: the phylactery and the technicalness of noble mages into the Circles. I had to explain how that came about and what better way than via the parents? And for anyone who is a little bit rusty on DA lore… 'Teyrn' is an Ostwick rank similar to Kirkwall's Viscount, or Ferelden's King, or Orlais's Empress. Basically the top of the social ladder.

And holy Maker's balls, I let her dad shine in this chapter. I mean, he basically convinced _the Chantry _to grant a special exception to ages old protocol; which says how intelligent and charismatic he is. For his daughter, whom he loves very much. So much that he _stole_ from the Chantry to keep her safe. You go daddy Trevelyan!

Let's not forget about mommy Trevelyan too. She had to go through a major change of heart during her daughter's absence to come to terms with who she is. Mommy T is traditional in _this_ world's terms – the whole 'women are wives, mother's, ect' ideal. She still is, but accepted across time for who her daughter is mentally and emotionally. Watching her spar (ahem, _play_) with the Commander reinforced that acceptance.


	20. Pretty Woman

Chapter 19: Pretty Woman

That was quite possibly the most fun the Commander could remember having with anyone in a long time. It was loud, bawdy, and the most candid experience. The opposite of their chess match – where as that was quiet and strategic – their sparing match was a bit more primal. It started out serious and a little playful with their banter before it started. However, he couldn't help but to admire the fluid motions of her body as she swayed to either dodge or attack. The exact control over her wooden blade and her mana.

Self-mastery.

Katja was a skilled fighter. Thinking of that fact sent a wondrous thrill down his spine and straight to his groin. The Commander knew she always was, but he never… got a chance to experience it firsthand. How wonderful it felt when they went hand-to-hand, so close to each other. He didn't miss the way she would tease him that was unnecessary to their combat. Touches that he reciprocated privately.

He couldn't help but to let her win. She could have beaten him either way; it was just easier on himself if he gave in to her. He really wanted to.

"Do you yield _my_ Commander?"

He didn't miss the subtle word play over that question. His very soul hummed in approval a thousand times.

He really needed a bath. A cold one preferably.

Trying extraordinarily hard to be annoyed that his clothes and armor had more mud on them than what should be legal. However, he couldn't be more happy with how he gained that layer of mud on himself. Once he was within his office, careful with his state of filthiness when he took off his armor, then, his soiled boots and gloves. Then, proceeded to climb up the ladder into his room to gather clean clothes, a soap bar, hair cleaner, and a fresh towel into a hemp bag. Once that was done, he departed to the bathing chambers under Skyhold.

The bathing chambers were a series of stone rooms, some small and others large, where the underground river flowed it's cool, crisp water. One could tell from the architecture that it was once an underground cavern before being converted during the days of Skyhold's construction. Intricate series of pipes and levees controlled the amount of water within the individual rooms that connected them. These levees allowed the flowing water to come up to his shoulders. Hundreds of enchanted lights lined the halls and inside the rooms themselves. Adding warmth and light to what could have been considered a dark and clammy atmosphere.

It was his choice to use the underground bathing chambers since he could have servants draw him a bath. A hot one if he so choose. He much preferred the calming nature of the underground bathing chambers. There was something soothing and healing about the water that made him feel refreshed.

There was only one detail about the bathing chambers that was a certain diplomat's influence: the tiled mosaics. Dozens littered the walls with their tiny tiles made with either stone or glass – bright and very vivid with the enchanted lights shimmering on them. Many of the mosaics were stylized animals, battles, or patterns.

However, there was one in particular that he couldn't help but to stop and admire. It was a single mosaic that stretched ten paces the he and anyone entering the baths would see. It was a symbolistic mosiac of the Inquisitor and her Heraldry of Andraste. Andraste, Her Holiness, was beside Katja and pointing with her right hand to where the Anchor was – the glowing green hand raised in condemnation, sparkling and waving as if on fire. Andraste holding her customary sword in her left hand within a defender's stance; a position of her defending the Inquisitor. In Katja's right hand was a staff with the Inquisition's heraldry – a symbol of her being a mage and highest authority of governing the organization. Both women were garbed in white robes for their holy purity. Shining suns around their heads, a testament to the Maker's light shining on them.

A blazing holy light shined from the Inquisitor's staff and Andraste's sword, bursting forth across the mosaic. The holy light coming out if the weapons cut through black and evil demons and monsters.

Cullen couldn't help but feel at awe every time he saw this mosaic. A devoutness to both his faith in Andraste and his loyalty to the Inquisitor. However, he could feel a sense of sadness and misinterpretation on the Inquisitor's part. She, in the mosaic, seemed cold and lifeless – an all too stern resoluteness to her eyes and face. Perhaps as a way to single her out from the masses and to glorify her awarded holiness to her name. It was only in those brief moments when she was out in public that she needed to put on her Inquisitor mask – the mask that the mosaic presented. The tiled stones glorifying and solidifying her unflinching face, unsmiling mouth, cold eyes, and too preened hair.

When she was anything but that in real life.

But, in a way, the Commander was with this holy version of Katja too. Perhaps not as the mosaic depicted – for he knew the truth about the Anchor and it's source – but she was defiantly blessed. More so than anyone dared to claim, despite her quiet dismissals. Even before the Conclave, he couldn't help but think that a higher power was protecting her. Knowing her brief history.

_She cares for me… this beautiful, strong, holy woman… cares for me. That she… let's me hold her… kiss her. How can I be worthy of such a holy woman such as her?_

Raising his hand reverently to caress the tiled representation of her face, only to stop suddenly, inches from the tiles. Noticing the grimy dirt, the filth on his hand. Then, it suddenly turned it's brown color to a dark red of blood, dripping from his palm; discorded screams rattling his head. Pulling the filthy, soiled, _sinned_ hand away.

Pressing his eyes closed and willing the screams in his head away.

"Shh… be calm Commander."

Jerking his eyes open to see who had said that. It was the Inquisitor's voice…

The tiled mosaic eyes of her blinked at him, the tiles moving and shifting in movement. Swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Do not let the jackals that plague your mind haunt you."

The sort of fear that paralyzes held and immobilized him, unable to turn away from the shifting tiled mosaic and her commanding words. Her stern face hardened as she raised and beat the butt of her staff on the ground. The residing beat boomed within his soul, ripping out his fear. Calming his frantic drumming of his heart.

"Dispel that fear Commander. It is beneath you. Fear will kill you quicker than any blade."

Closing his eyes in an attempt to disengage the hallucination. Unable to break away, to put distance between himself. His limbs wouldn't obey him to _move_, to get _away_. The screams in his mind renewed their cries.

Hearing the boom from the butt of her staff as it strikes the floor again. The screams rendered silent once again as he opened his eyes.

"Look at your hand Commander."

He couldn't. He didn't want to be reminded of his sins, of his long torture. Feeling the stickiness from the blood. The heat burned on his skin.

Striking her staff again before pressing, "Must I order you Commander? Look at your hand."

Swallowing the lump in his throat before raising his shaking hand. Forcing himself to look at it.

It was clean.

"You are no longer that man, Commander. He is not within your heart anymore. His burns have long since been extinguished. You have been forgiven."

A bone wracking sob escaped his lips. "I'm not worthy…"

She strikes her staff more harshly on the floor, "Enough. You have been forgiven. Now, you must forgive yourself."

His arms started to shake, "I can't…"

Her holy face turned sad, "Then you will never love me like you wish to. Like you believe I deserve from you. You must say it once you do."

The shimmering movement, returned back to it's stony, stoicness of the mosaic. Backing away slowly from her – feeling her eyes on him as he did so.

Once he was a distance away did he turn and run. Quickly finding his bathing chamber, unlocking the stone door, going inside, and closing said door. The residual thud echoed in the small space. Tightly closing his eyes and willing himself into calm. He didn't have hallucinations often, but when they did come…

_It's the withdrawal. Maker I can't wait for this part of the process to be over with._

Cullen couldn't help but feel as though that particular one had truths to it. Hating what he was and what he did – hard to find forgiveness in himself. That much was true. It brought up a whole new ugliness and self-loathing. Deeply questioning his worthiness and sanity. The fog the lyrium granted slowly being lifted in his mind and the memories that had long since been repressed or glossed over were coming back to him.

_'With passion'd breath does the darkness creep. It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.'_

With one last shaky breath, he released himself from his hunched over melancholy upon the door. Needing some time to relax within the pool of wonderful water the bath provided. With calculated steps, he set his hemp bag of material on the stone seat on his right. Opening the bag to hang his clothes on the hanger above the stone seat and settle his clean shoes next to the seat. Taking the hemp bag to the edge of the pool and resettling it there. The towel now rested on the seat.

Undressing himself and tossing his soiled clothes to the opposite wall. The action caused him to flinch on his left shoulder; a sore spot from where Lady Katja whacked him with the wooden sword.

He smiled. _She's so strong_, he thought reverently.

Once he was completely disrobed did he sink himself into the pool. The water was cool and refreshing. Then, he began to clean himself – the mud flowed easily from his body and hair. Paying special attention to his hair to make sure no lingering sand was in it. No reason to give Varric another nickname for him, like 'Curly Sand' or 'Sandy Curly'. _Bah_…

Wiggling himself deeper into the pool – at the point where the water came to his shoulders. Needing a respite to relax, if only a moment, to float without purpose within the water. Looking up at the shimmering tiles of the mosaic on the ceiling. This one was a simple design with hallas running across the plains. Closing his eyes to rest them too.

After several moments he heard a faint churning sound, he dismissed it. Claiming that it must be the pipes that connected the individual pools. The water within his ears could be playing tricks on his senses. Then came the strange sensation that he was being watched or something was near him. Without moving, he opened his inquisitive eyes to look around, but finding nothing. Resuming his relaxed state.

"Maker's Breath!" he shouted. Kicking at the water in surprise from the sensation of a pair of hands squeezing his backside. The flailing movements had him come up to the edge of the pool, quickly raising himself up and setting his said backside sitting on the stone.

His bronze eyes made contact with smiling red eyes.

"Inquisitor!"

He didn't know whether to be mortified or completely embarrassed. One thing was for certain, an unrestrained blush covered his whole body at that point. He just sat and stared at her dumbfounded.

She was only exposed from the nose up. The rest of her body obscured from the rippling water, but he could tell she was, again, nude. Her moon hair swimming on the top of the water, making light from a star in it's dance.

Sudden decency hit him as he covered his groin with his hands. Her twinkling eyes watched his movements and they smiled mischievously and a cackle came from her throat. The rest of her head came up from the water as she came closer to him, crawling up the ramp on her hands and knees. Tearing his wide-eyes away from the waves of water trickling down her toned body. They were together romantically – right? – but that didn't mean he could gawk like a pervert at a lady! Especially one so… beautiful and strong as her. No reason to make her uncomfortable.

Even though it wasn't her that was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Feeling the heat from her body as she sat next to him; always warm and welcoming. A strange sense of déjà vu came over him. Cullen wanted to speak but he had lost his voice.

"Cullen, that was the funniest reaction that I've ever gotten out of you. For a moment I thought it was the bum of a little boy I was grabbing." Chuckling at the mention of her little 'prank' on him.

He turned redder and frowned in embarrassment, "Maker's breath." He said through pierced lips.

Placing a full lipped kiss on his cheek, probably as an apology, but the action caused one of her perked breasts to rub on his arm. Sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation.

"You have a nice firm ass Cullen, and those dimples are adorable."

"Um, ah…" what in Andraste's name was he supposed to say to _that_? "I guess, um, thank you?"

"You're welcome. Wouldn't mind seeing your bum from time to time." Lady Katja said casually.

Nearly choking on her statement. _Maker what the fuck is going on here?!_

"May I ask what you are doing in here?" Trying to divert away from his embarrassed situation.

"Taking a bath?" she said as if it was the most obvious thing.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she placed her chin on his shoulder – pressing her warm, soft breasts tighter on his arm. Her warm, wet body more flushed on his side. Daring himself to turn his head to look her in the eye.

_Andraste preserve me. Andraste preserve me._

"Um, yes, well, don't you have your own pool?"

"Yes but I thought we could bathe together since we got dirty together."

"Oh."

She furrowed her brows together, and her eyes seemed almost uncertain, "Is something wrong?"

"I – ah… "

What was he supposed to say? That her proximity was making him aroused? In the simplest terms of his predicament. He wasn't ashamed of himself! Not physically at least. Back at the barracks when he was still a templar it was the norm to have group baths. There was little to no privacy in that department. However, the baths were separate depending on the gender of the templar.

He was no virgin either – that part of himself had long since been given away during his years as a recruit when he was a teenager. He was a regular with one of the… _ladies_ at the Blooming Rose in Kirkwall, before the chaos and destruction. An occurrence a few times a year when his duties permitted some of that free time. The last of that was two months prior to Cassandra recruiting him to the Inquisition. That had been nine months ago.

It's been too long since he wanted anyone that meant more than a physical relationship.

His first love was Lady Amell during her tenure at Ferelden's Circle before she became a Warden. Even Hawke, though that was more of a strong crush than anything. His hurt from this torment at Ferelden's Circle and their distance. Both of these women fell for another before he even got his chance or subsequent courage. The timing and circumstance were not aligned for him to develop any lasting feelings. Lady Amell was currently King Alistair's mistress and Hawke was with the elf – what was his name? – Fenris.

Both were strong, fierce, intelligent, loyal women. Who happened to be powerful mages.

Sweet Maker his perks in women.

Katja released her hold on him and looked at him quizzically like he was a stubborn puzzle.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

His mental reverie was cut short by her apologetic phrase. "No! I'm… I'm not upset at all."

Katja quirked her brow like she didn't believe him.

"It's just that," he started, "I'm not used to… this, um, relationship. And I was… surprised when you… you know."

_Really Commander is that all you can come up with?_

"Oh good. I thought you were upset that I barged into here without knocking or asking. I didn't think it would be a big deal since we are in a relationship. But, I have to know: why are you so embarrassed then? You don't have to cover up on my account."

"Oh, um…"

"I know what a man's cock looks like and I've seen yours. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You've got a nice ample cock if do say so myself." She smiled and nodded in approval.

Cullen went wide eyed and wished he could turn invisible at that point. Lady Katja was complimenting him! On his… manhood. Hazy memories of his former templar friends (back when he was a budding teenager) giving him similar compliments – even if they were a bit more vulgar than what she said. It wasn't like him to flaunt himself about.

When he turned away and remained statue still she further added, "Are you aroused?"

_Andraste help me!_

She chucked at his shyness and she whispered in his ear, "I am too."

All he could do was look at her wide-eyed as all thoughts halted in his brain. His lower-self reacting to her words.

"What?" Her brows furrowed at his blank reaction. "It's not a bad thing is it? You didn't think I would be attracted to you that way? But, that's silly, of course I would be attracted to you physically."

Cullen still couldn't speak.

"Are you alright?"

Attempting to clear his parched throat, he managed to say, "Yes."

"You sure? You were looking at me oddly."

"Yes."

It was then he saw her face had turned blank and she clasped her hands. A gesture he recognized at her being nervous. Turning away from him, her moon hair obscuring her face.

Panic flooded into him. _Shit! What did I do? Say? I've completely ruined this moment!_

In the middle of his jumbled thoughts, she raised herself out of the pools edge, walked the three steps to retrieve her oversized towel, and wrapped it around herself.

"You don't have to leave!" he blurted from his mouth when he turned his torso around to see her.

The towel was wrapped around herself and she stood still after his exclamation. She didn't turn to face him. She wasn't making a move to leave. Like he thought she was about to do.

_As embarrassed as you can get, you had better explain yourself! Now she thinks of you as an ass!_

"It's just, um, I find you very attractive and I – I ah, didn't want you to be uncomfortable with my… reaction to you. Well, I guess mutual reaction."

_Now admit the other thing, Commander._

Taking a reassuring breath, "I've never been with a woman like you before. One who… shares affection with me. If I seem unsure, it's because it's been a long time since I wanted anyone in my life. I wasn't expecting to find that here. Or you."

There he said it, or at least explained himself. He turned away from her, looking down at himself. Shaking his head in disbelief that he let something so small – not really Commander – becoming a big deal. If she wasn't ashamed of herself, then neither will he! It wasn't like she was forcing him to have sex with her. Or her touching him without consent. They were just… without clothing on. Taking a bath. Together. Alone.

Easier said than done though.

_Do I even have the strength to not be inappropriate with her? Or her thinking that I want her to touch me? Wait that's wrong! I do want that from her! Maker even in my own head I'm messing this up! I'm thinking too much. Yes, that it! No thinking. Just go along with it. Whatever she's comfortable with, I'll be alright with as well._

What about those touches you gave her during that sparing match?

_Different! She started it! It wasn't like I was… cupping her round, pert breasts or her perfectly curved ass or teasing her sure to be soft, moist – inappropriate thoughts Commander!_

_Right, no thinking._

Taking a deep breath he removed his hands covering his groin, setting them on the pool's edge. Waiting to see her reaction.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly.

He blinked and turned his head to face her. She was still wrapped around the large towel, and she had turned forward, but her wet hair had obscured her face. Her hands clasped tightly.

"I thought it was me making you uncomfortable. I just – " she sighed, "I didn't mean to displease you with the way I look."

_What?!_

Whoa! Let's take a break here! Is that what she thinks?!

Forgetting his naked embarrassment, he jumped up, make short work of the distance between them and held her tightly within his arms.

"You are _not_ ugly." He said firmly into her ear. Cupping her oval face within his hands, having her eyes meet his. The red color twinkling in the light, shimmering like a ruby gem. "You are the most beautiful woman in Thedas. There is not one thing I would change about you. You're perfect."

Perfectly womanly, strong, holy.

Different flickers of red shimmered in her eyes. He couldn't describe what sort of emotions were playing within her. Perhaps it was him, but there was something child-like, innocent and virginal about her eyes then.

The pupils suddenly constricted to tiny dots and her eyes widened. Her hands that she had placed gingerly on his wrists a moment ago constricted tightly. Eyes snapping shut so tight that the lids wrinkled. Her breathing escalated. The lyrium within his blood hummed maddenly as her mana spiked drastically.

"Lady Katja?"

The pressure she exhumed on his wrists tightened further to the point of being painful – hands shaking. Emitting an aching sob between her frowned lips. He knew within the depth of his psyche what this reaction was. Cullen had similar reactions to certain situations that came from his haunted past.

"Lady Katja!" he called a little louder. Fear gripping his voice as he saw tiny sparks of electricity on her skin that jolted the muscles on his arms. The heat from her grip burned where it was connected with his own. The pain catching his throat.

"Katja! Stop!"

His voice seemed to bring her back as her eyes shot open. The internal fury on her face melted away, replacing that was deep sorrow and fear. Blinking several more times in realization that she was actually him standing there and not what her mind conjured up.

Remembering that she hinted at knowing what mental hurts where back at Haven after he had an… episode. Without realizing it at the moment he had caused one for her. Guilty and ashamed of himself for causing such a panic within her. She didn't deserve that from him! All he did was cup her face so she could look into his eyes as he professed how beautiful she was! What hurt caused her to view something that was supposed to be comforting into a painful one?

Her eyes wondered to where she held his wrists, opening her hands. Wincing from the pain as burns in the shape of her hands were branded on his wrists. Her hands shaking as she looked at them – bits of his skin and blood on them.

"I am… so sorry." Unabashed tears flowed from her eyes. "I thought I…"

"I'm sorry too."

Her eyes shot at him.

"I didn't realize that I… that I caused you to remember a painful memory."

"No!" she shouted horrified, "It's mine. I thought I was done with those memories, but they just –"

"Keep coming when you don't want them too." He knew all about that.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "You _know_."

Cullen nodded and used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that she unknowingly shed. She looked horrified but then accepted the touch. Flecks of green light danced where his burns were as the skin mended together; the feeling close to that of a cool balm. The only thing left that he had sustained an injury was a faint pinkness.

Not resisting the urge to hold her – to help mend her hurt. Feeling her freeze up but soon melted into his embrace. She didn't reciprocate the embrace, but neither did she run from him. For the longest time they stayed like that, just holding each other. Running his fingers through her hair. Never having the courage to do so – it was still damp from her swim in the pool, but he could tell it was soft and thick. The strong smell of her – that pine needle and dew grass smell – was strong. A little thankful that there was a towel between them.

Kissing the top of her head before he pulled away, running his palms down her shoulders and arms. Noticing that her hands were pressed together and she was looking at them. Opening them to reveal the leftover blood and skin from her mistakenly marring him.

He should clean that.

Retrieving the small hand towel he used to clean himself from the pool's edge. The damp cloth was perfect for cleaning away the unintended muck from her hands. After a few movements there was not one drop of blood or fleck of skin left on her hands. Nodding in approval and tossing the soiled towel to the far wall with his other soiled clothes.

Lady Katja kept staring at her hands, turning them over to inspect them. The movements jerky and shaky. Slowly he clasped his hands within her's; her eyes following his movement as he raised her hands to his mouth where he kissed the knuckles of her fingers. Silently trying to convey that he forgave her.

"Cullen…" she whispered, "Do it again."

Stopping his kissing to regard her request. A questioning look in his bronze eyes.

Pulling her fingers away from his kissing mouth to cup his face like he had done to her. Was she…?

"Please, do it again. _Say_ it again." Nearly pleading him into doing what he had done to trigger that memory from her.

"But –"

"_Please_… I want to see your face not… not _theirs_. Give me a good memory."

Sighing wearily, his mind saying that doing so was a bad idea. But, her pleas couldn't be denied – all he wanted was to give her good memories. Steeling himself, he needed to be there for her. What sort of man could he be for her if he couldn't? She needed him.

Cupping her face like he did before – feeling a little twitch from her hand on his face but no more. Lowering his head to rub their foreheads together; the tips of their noses touching. Trying with all his might to convey his love for her through his eyes. Then, he said the words again. With each syllable, he could see the ice beneath her eyes melt, becoming warm and inviting. Back to that look she had before the trigger – one of child-like innocence.

Once he was finished, she smiled happily, even though the mist of unshed tears that were at the corners of her eyes. Rubbing his thumbs to catch and wipe them away.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, leaning her head a little more forward to capture his lips. Giving gentle pecks on each other's mouths. Her hands falling downward to tease his pectorals, further across his rib cage, going up and down his sides. The feather light motions tickled him, something she noticed. Lady Katja chuckled and broke the kiss – repeating the motions on his sides using only her fingertips and nails.

Cullen snorted and quickly held her dancing fingers down. An unrestrained blush on his face and shoulders and shifting his feet in embarrassment. She cupped and kneaded the sides of his hips where he held her.

She laughed softly and the mischievous light in her eyes were back, "Who would have thought the great Commander would be ticklish?"

The 'Great Commander' blushed harder and shifted his feet again. _Maker, what she does to me._

He watched her smile broaden; any sort of pain was gone from her eyes and demeanor.

For the first time he encompassed all of who she was then. Yes, she was the Inquisitor – capable of impossible feats. The Herald of Andraste – a blessed woman touched Her Holiness. Also something more earthy and tangible – a woman – a mortal woman with pains from her past. Despite that pain, he had made her smile when she remembered. Smoothed warmth back into her soul as she had done for him once. Feeling so honored that he could do that for her. Making another vow that he etched into his soul that he would help her on her bad days too.

Said wonderful woman was making an attempt to release her hands to keep on tickling him.

"Whoa there!" he exclaimed as he pulled her hands away from his hips.

Keeping her smile and that mischievous gleam turned into a challenge as she reached up and kissed him. Tongue teasing his lips and tasting his scar. Sighing at the wonderful sensations; he would always approve a kiss from her. Reciprocating the teasing of their mouths and tongues. Sweet Maker he wanted all of her within him.

Letting go of her hands, he smoothed his up her arms to hold her close. Silently consenting to her touching him. He rather liked the affection and attention. He could feel himself becoming aroused but he couldn't bring himself to care at that point (the soft towel around her wasn't helping in that department). She gasped as he sighed. Feeling the closeness that he always wanted from her. Lady Katja's hands roaming down his spine – tracing the white scars on his back along with the curves of his muscles.

He would always remember the way she would look at him after that kiss. One of pure joy that he could do that for anyone, especially one he felt so deeply for.

They somewhat behaved the rest of the time in the bath. Since he was technically finished cleaning, he volunteered to give her some 'pampering'. He didn't think he could wash her without, well, coming undone. So he washed her hair instead while she cleaned the rest of herself. Which thinking about it wasn't a good idea for him. Even though she technically wasn't touching herself in that way, it was certainly sensual to the Commander. He couldn't help but blush the whole time and be semi-erect. Thanking the Maker that they were in the water and he was behind her where she couldn't see.

The Commander couldn't help but to admire her body. Her toned, warrior's body; soft moon hair; full lips the color of a dragonthorn berry; passionate red eyes; her perked breasts that had a large, dark freckle just above her left nipple that he found enduring (as much as he wanted to lick it); and he could admit that she had a lovely shaped bottom that was curved just right. He couldn't fathom how anyone would think she wasn't the most perfect woman in Thedas.

There was just one thing he really wanted to know: just how good would she taste when he opened her legs? He did see (without his consent!) her feminine parts. He didn't mean to! Cullen would swear it he didn't mean to! She turned around once they were done and hoisted herself out of the pool's edge without using the steps out. For a _second_ she was bent over and her womanly petals were exposed to his eyes. The water caressing her smooth skin that teased his eyes as it trickled down. The outline of her backside and legs formed a heart shape. Knowing her unbashful nature, he knew that she didn't think nothing of it. But he certainly did!

Just that _one_ second look was enough for him to be completely hard. It wasn't a _little_ hard like when they would kiss, but _a lot_ of hard. So, he stayed in the pool trying to mentally will the image of her petals away from his mind.

Meanwhile she was drying herself with her towel while speaking to him. "So, I was thinking since we have a little down time before our next move, that we could have a rematch of our chess game. Not today though, Josie stopped me on my way here that there are some visitors that want to meet me. Maybe tomorrow?" He words were muffled from running her towel through her wet hair.

Clearing his throat and trying to think (though he wasn't supposed to) "I would have to see if my duties would permit, but I'll let you know if I'm able to. I would like that."

It was a safe bet that would hopefully _not_ lead to inappropriateness. Like how inappropriate it was of him to sneak a moment to look back down at her womanly mound. Blinking away the image of fine, silver-grey hair that nestled around the beginnings of her slit and the peaking of the hood that held that sweet bundle of nerves that would make her moan as he licked – _Keep your thoughts clean Commander!_

Preserving whatever was left of his gentlemanly nature, he looked away as she was getting dressed. Though there would be no point as seeing he pretty much seen her naked.

He didn't look back at her until she approached him, kneeling down to see him in the eye from the pool. Lady Katja ran her lithe fingers of her left hand through his damp, curled hair and a smile on her lips. Those lips gave a brief kiss on his own, giving a reciprocating kiss of his own.

"I'll see you later Cullen." She said.

Blushing a little, he replied, "You too."

Leaving him with a clink of the stone door and a raging hard-on. Sweet Andraste what was he supposed to do? Cullen got out of the pool and tried to will his erection away. To no avail.

Frustrated with himself he took the matter into his own hand – so to speak. Conjuring up one of his fantasies about her.

Kneeling before her – sweet and delectable – the holy chalice between her legs damp from anticipation. Her lithe hands running through his hair, giving the barest hint of him to move his head forward. Opening his mouth to kiss her womanly petals. Hearing her gasp gives him a spark of confidence to continue his kisses. Cullen breathes in her rich scent that woodsy, pine needles and fresh dew grass smell. It surrounds him and spurs him to dare and flick his tongue on her clit. She moans and he is satisfied.

Wanting to bring her greater pleasure from him, he circles around the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue before flicking upward. She shivers and moans louder, her hands grasping tighter on his hair.

Mindless save for the want, the _need_ to have her nectar within his mouth – to go down his throat and be within him. Her cries of pleasure _ached_ him forward _demanding_ him to give more.

"You want this don't you?" she would say breathless, but no less authoritative.

"Yes _please_." He would say between the folds of her womanhood. Excitement and glee that he did want that from her.

"Service. A life of service Commander." Giving a long moan when he sucked on her clit, "Service should be rewarded, yes?"

Humming out a 'yes' while continuing to suckle her. Oh Maker she was so wet.

She spread her legs a little further and pressed him tighter to the apex. Greedily milking her essence from her. Her heightened moans and squeals increased until she ruptured. Holding her tight as he eagerly lapped her up, pulling her spilt essence within his soul.

* * *

**[A.N.]** A good thank you to Rainnyash and vanillacustard for the fav/follows! And reviews from Meikhaila, Rae and Princess of Mirkwood2. :)

To clear up any confusion over the last chapter. Katja is legally not a Trevelyan by Chantry law. Which means she will receive **no** Trevelyan inheritance once her parents die. The contract that Daddy T made with the Chantry was **during** her short tenure of Ostwick's Circle. That contract's conditions has **not** been fulfilled (Circle education and her Harrowing). That contract was the **only** way for her to receive her inheritance and be bound by law to the arranged marriage. As of now, the original Chantry law that null and voids a noble mage's inheritance and other familial obligations **stands**. I hate to do it but I'll quote Vivienne on this "Marriage is for inheritance and receiving of titles." Which is why it's generally accepted in the nobility class to have a mistress(es) and paramour(s) in Thedas.

So, by Chantry law (and the law of the land): Katja is not bound to any sort of familial obligation including the arranged marriage. On the positive side: Katja can make her own inheritance and marry whomever she chooses. If she chooses to. I might as well say it: Katja is unaware of the arranged marriage bit and she's generally naïve when it comes to Chantry law over mages. So this will make an interesting conversation piece right?

And with this chapter… damn I had a lot of symbolism here. And more pervy Cullen. Andraste bless him he tries to be a gentleman. I literally had to pull some creative teeth out to write this chapter. It took me three weeks to write. Ugh. I had fun though writing about the mosaic – I'm a bit of an art buff. And for the curious, the style is similar to the Byzantine religious mosaics and a Greco-Roman influence.


	21. Intermission 1

Intermission 1: Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

The little girl looked over the vast Waking Sea wondering what adventures waited for her on the other side. Daring a look back at what was once her home, but was now a contorted monster. Heavy smoke came from Ostwick, a large fire, one that she knew the source. _She_ was that source. Time had passed from the start to where she was now; it wasn't as black or thick as it once was. It could just be because she was a long, _long_ way away and it was just a dot in her field.

Running her little fingers through her filthy hair. She had used her dagger to cut in large chunks her hair and it was covered in grease and other nasties to cover the color. They thought she was a boy – good. She didn't mind pretending to be a boy. It helped to that she had… borrowed some clothes that were close in her size that were worn and plain looking. Fine she _stole_ them! But how else was she going to disguise herself that she wasn't a mage? If she wore a Circle robe she might as well have a giant sign above her head that said "Mage Here." She looked like an orphan that she would sometimes see in the streets – dirty, filthy clothes and wore no shoes. She smelt like one too. Fine by her.

Breathing in the sweet sea air along the beach. She wondered how she was going to cross the Waking Sea.

_A boat dummy!_

But, how was she going to get a boat? It had to be one of those _really_ big ones like papa took her on once. There were as big as one of those leviathan's her stories talked about. Big cities had big boats right? But, the only city nearby was Kirkwall and she heard _bad_ things about Kirkwall with it's mages. And she was trying to hide she was a mage. And she couldn't go back. She had to keep going forward.

Great, now what she going to do? She wanted to go to Ferelden! She never has been to Denerim before, that's the capitol where the palace of the King lives. She couldn't swim. Well, she _could_ but the Waking Sea was _really_ big. Which is why people use boats; big ones.

Sitting her bum on the sandy beach overlooking the sea. Trying to think of a way across.

Suddenly a group of large fish were jumping out of the sea and she heard faint clink-clink noises from them_. Oh neat! What are those?_

Using her animal connection to bring one of them over so she could see – wiggling herself into the foamy water. _Oh this is so awesome!_ She recognized them as dolphins from one of her picture books back at her old place. They were a lot bigger than she imagined them being. But they were fish-like and grey just like the book. And they had a playful mind and were really friendly. The other dolphins were it's family.

Inspiration struck her.

_I'll ride a dolphin to Ferelden! I don't need a stinky boat!_

But, what about food? Or water? She couldn't drink sea water; that stuff is gross and makes her sick. She had to find one of those flask thingies to hold good water. She remembered there were some ship wrecks along the shore, maybe one of them had a flask? Sounds like an idea! Running her hand on top of the dolphin's head and asking it and the family to wait here. It squealed excitedly and she giggled.

Well, finding that mysterious flask was an adventure in itself. She eventually found one several hours later. Opening the container and giving it a good sniff. Eww! Whatever was in it smelled really stinky. It smelt a little similar to papa's mead he would drink but it was way worse smelling and it made her throat itch. Taking a tiny sip but quickly spraying it out. How can anyone drink this stuff!? It nearly burned her mouth and tasted like bad, bad, _bad_ rotten fruit! All too happy to pour out the liquid contents. It even looked like dog pee it was so yellow!

Happy with her find, now came the task of finding good water. That took her a little while, but she found a flowing creek. Havardr told her once that flowing water was good to drink. Taking a sip and happy with the crispness of the water. Cleaning out the inside of her newly acquired flask before filling it up with the water.

It was beginnings of dusk when she returned to the beach. Happily feeling out the minds of her new dolphin friends. Running out into the sea and petting them on their heads. The holes on their heads spraying water and air at her. Looking at the strange hole with fascination. How could something have a hole in their head and not be dead? Weird.

Her stomach churned loudly from hunger. The gripping knots and pains made her clutch her tummy. She'd been hungry throughout the day, but she was too preoccupied with running from her not-home home and figuring how to get to Ferelden and finding her flask to notice. Poking her tummy at the loud noise it made. She felt pudgy down there despite her hunger.

What was she supposed to eat? She'd never well, _found_ food before. Or hunted. She wasn't stupid – she knew that plants grow in the dirt and where her meats come from. She just… never had to get it herself before. She was near the sea and she liked fish. Maybe she could try fishing!

All thoughts of figuring out how to fish was cut short as one of her new dolphin friends came up to her with a fish between their jaws. The fish wriggling. Smiling and thanking her new friend for it's help. Holding on to the fish tight so that it wouldn't escape. She'll try fishing another day. Taking a seat on the cool sand of the beach and figuring how to eat the fish. Well, she should cook it! But, she didn't know how to start a fire, not without using her magic. No! She wasn't going to do that! _They_ will find her if she did that! What if someone sees the fire like bandits or slavers or other people? She wasn't afraid of people. No, fear had long since been driven out of her mind from… from _that time_. She just wanted to be left alone. People will hurt her. Beat her up and call her names. Oath breakers and meanies. Look at her like _nothing_ when she was a _thing_. She wasn't a _thing_ anymore.

She'd kill them all if she had to! She'd done it before. Surprised at how easy it was. Remembering seeing the cooks butcher a live pig or chickens. Never realizing that it was that easy for _people_ too. Especially _them_. All she had to do was hold them down and cut. Using lyrium was a stupid idea. But she did learn something from it.

Death is final.

Just like she was going to bring death to the wriggling fish in her hands. She was going to kill it and eat it so she could live. She wanted to live. For as long as she can, she was going to kick death in it's face and say "Not today."

Holding the fish down as she drew her dagger out and cut it's head off. Eww! It was still wriggling a little. Remembering that cooks would have to cut the belly to pull the guts out. The dagger was a little impractical on that and her initial cut was haphazard and cut a little too deep, nearly filleting the fish. Piercing the long yellow glob and that creamy fluid came out. Scrunching her face at that but pulling everything out regardless. She was hungry and she was going to eat. Then scratching off as much of the scales as possible. That task was really messy as they flew everywhere and hurt her nails and she increasingly grew irritated when they seemed to stick to her.

At least it was semi-clean of scales at that point. Impatient, she went ahead and begun to eat the fish. Nearly gaging at it, but swallowing regardless. It was totally different if it were cooked! It was a little oily but tasted a little like the sea. Which was really weird that a fish would taste like the sea smelt. Really hating that she would have to pull out one of the tiny bones out of her mouth if she weren't careful. A little surprised that the bone was pointy at the end.

She ate the whole thing. Not realizing just how hungry she was. At least she had something in her tummy even though she still felt hungry.

The sun was setting on the horizon. Looking at it in awe. She never really paid attention to the sunsets. It was so beautiful looking! All those colors. The yellow of the sun blended with oranges, reds, purples and blues. And the way it was going down on the water looked like there were two suns, kind of. Slowly merging into a big sun in the middle.

Yawning heavily – it had been a _long_, rough day for her. She could sleep a million years and still be tired. Laying down on the sandy beach and looking up at the peeking stars in the dark blue sky. It was another thing she never really paid attention to. Her tutor talked about the stars and shapes they would make. Sailors would use them to travel and that's how they would know where they were. Maybe she could do the same? Just making out the constellation the Twin Sisters – where their hands would be would be the South Star – where the general direction of south was. Taking it to memory as he closed her eyes and sleep took her.

Hands were bound – broken and bloody. Wire wrapped around her mouth to stanch her cries. The Sunburst brand on her head making her obey. The Bad Monster was coming – it's eyes pale and lifeless that killed any courage within her and armor that couldn't be broken with he insignia of a Flaming Sword that couldn't be extinguished. Putting his searing hands on her face to make her look at him as he grins that makes her sick.

"Make sure you look my precious Kitten. And don't forget to smile and say 'thank you'."

Suddenly the Monster burst into flame along with everything else. A mighty roar shattering the dream, and pulling her away from her memories. Bounds release and she was free again. Falling blissfully into the ether until she landed softly on a bed of tall, golden grass.

A furry muzzle blowing sweet air into her head; looking up at the source. It was her best friend.

"Havvy!" she shouted gleefully. Wrapping her hands around his head that could barely fit. His fur so soft to the touch.

It was a thousand years ago that she last spoken with him. It was because of her best friend that the chains of that Sunburst brand on her head was gone. He freed her. Then, she freed herself. His rough tongue lapped on the side of her face. She giggled happily at the affection.

"I have missed you so Snow Kitten." His deep voice vibrated his space, the grass shimmering with each baritone.

"Me too." Gentle, soothing colors wrapped around her.

His soothing, solid presence held her like a warm blanket. Easing the prickles that had formed in her mind from her memories. For the remainder of the dream, he held her tightly, and she basked in his calm companionship. So happy to have her best friend back in her dreams.

He nuzzled her face again before saying, "Snow Kitten, time to wake."

Nodding sadfully. "I don't want to wake up. I missed you too much."

"You must." Colors changing to a murky haze, "Don't worry. I'll be here when you sleep. Wouldn't you like to continue your lessons?"

She beamed at that and she shouted , "Yes!"

Feeling his approval at her enthusiasm, "Then I will see you in your next dream." Blowing gently on her which caused her real eyes to open.

First thing she noticed was that half her body was submerged in water and the second thing was she felt really sick. Running out of the water which was rather comical. And her spewing her guts out which was not. The fish she at yesterday was in a messy heap of gooey bile on the sand. What felt like forever dry heaving her tummy out. For the past few days she felt really sick in the mornings. Remembering from when she was a _thing_ one of the mages would make a potion that would help her rolling tummy.

Laying on her back after she was done dry heaving, wiping away the tears from the pains in her tummy.

The sun was beginning to rise. Looking at the pretty colors and the remaining twinkling stars helped her relax and not feel so bad.

Hearing the clicks and squeals further out to sea. Smiling; her dolphins! Forgetting about the tummy pains as she reached out to her dolphin's minds. They were hunting the fish in the water. Amazed at how they worked together to bundle a bunch of fish and dart into the fish cloud and eat. Realizing that the random clicks and squeals they would make were their way of talking to each other and it helped them 'see' in the water.

It was the neatest thing she has ever experienced.

The sun was fully above the horizon when the dolphins were finished with their hunt to come up to her. Petting some of them affectionally on their head.

Right! Time to go to Ferelden!

The dolphins squealed highly at the thought of travelling. Finding the biggest dolphin and climbing on his back like she would a horse. Setting herself behind the fin on his back. It was a little strange feeling but soon got used to it the more out to sea she got. The other dolphins were jumping out of the water on the sides of her. Looking at them in awe that they could do that! Without prompt the dolphin she was riding dived down and shot up into the air like other members of his family. Clutching his sides like a lifeline but screaming in glee.

"Again! Again!"

He did so again and again. And she laughed and soaked up the pure happiness and freedom of being with them traveling to Ferelden.

Taking a glance back at where she once was, the beach was just a thin sliver on the horizon. Nodding that she was going far, _far_ away. She was going on an adventure!

It looked like it was about mid-day by the way she sun was that she was feeling hungry. One of the dolphins caught a fish for her like before. And she fixed it like she did last night. Except she felt safe enough with nobody around to use her mana to cook it. Remembering her lessons Havardr taught her a long, long time ago on how to control her fire spells. It tasted better but it was rubbery. Maybe she cooked it too long? Feeling better but still queasy from her sickness in the mornings.

Her friend was getting tired from carrying her, so she had another one carry her for a time.

Content with where she was, she took a nap. It was blissfully dreamless and short. Yawning afterwards and switching out to another dolphin. Quickly becoming board that there really was nothing for her to do on dolphin back. Well, Havvy was going to start teaching her again. So, maybe she should re-remember her old lessons.

* * *

"On the roo_ooad_ to Den-er-im. On the roo_ooad_ to Den-er-im." She sang happily as she skipped on the dirt road.

Excitedly happy. Havardr was teaching her again, even showing her how to survive by herself. She even made two new friends! Two big marbaris as her companions – which she named in true Ferelden fashion – Dog One and Dog Two. Or D1 and D2. Their shoulders coming to where her head was. They were the size of ponies to her. And they were wicked strong too.

Just the other day a group of nasty bandits tried to hurt her and her doggies. But they showed them! They all got nasty collections of bite marks and stab wounds from Cat's Tooth! They won't be bugging them any time soon! As payment she took some of their food and got a new set of threads. Even a neat looking hat and a side bag to put some stuff in – like her food. Stole it fair and square!

Really happy that she chose to go to Ferelden after… _that time_. The air was fresh, and it wasn't too hot or cold (except at night, but D1 and D2 were great heaters).

Trying to keep the map of Ferelden in her head from her tutoring from _back then_. All she had to do was follow the North Road down and it'll lead her straight to Denerim. All the walking hurt her feet though. They were covered in blisters that would sometimes bleed. Making sure no one was around while she casted a small heal on them. Soon, the skin turned tough and leather like and she didn't get many blisters anymore. It was a long, long two weeks though on the road to Denerim. She would have gotten there sooner if she didn't distract herself with the neat landmarks. From cool statues of mabaris, high cliffs, and wide open fields she would have to run through. All the while D1 and D2 would bark and run with her. Each time she would hunt a nug she got better at it or edible vegetation, and making a fire at night.

All by herself!

Though she wasn't always successful and often times would go hungry. More practice then! She was still feeling sick in the mornings though and couldn't understand why. Maybe she was doing something wrong with her food?

The closer she got to Denerim the more people she saw on the roads. She didn't pay them hardly any mind, but a few stopped her. Thinking she was a boy. Speaking a few words before skipping away. Weird right?

Denerim came into view from atop a hill. Wow it was so huge! There must be lots of things in their for her to see! There were a lot of people outside the gates and even _more_ inside the gates. And the buildings were tall and really neat. It reminded her like the ones back home but this was more simple and not so many colors. They looked like cottages but bigger. There were lots of animals in the street with some other children playing. And merchants selling their wares. A lot of them gave her strange looks, but said little to nothing to her.

Following the main road inside she came across the big market where there were hundreds of sellers can callers for wares. Going inside the throng of people. She's never been to a market before, or seen these many people in one area before. Completely awestruck.

While looking at some wares a jerk-face tried to take Cat's Tooth from her! But D1 and D2 bit real good on his arms as he was beginning to take it out of it's sheath. The dumb thief howled from the bite and she spun around and kicked him in the balls! As he was running away she shouted, "Steal from me again and I'll have Dog Two eat your nut-sack off next time!" _Epic_ come-back!

She could have spent the whole day in the market but she traveled out to look at the docks where the ships were. They were really big here! Seemed like hundreds of people were shouting, carrying something, or loading the boats. Spending the better part of the day watching them.

Taking out a bit of dried food from her side back and eating it. Giving Dog One and Two a bit as well.

Continuing along the docks, finding a large building with a lot of people in it too. Reading the sign that said "The Pearl." Must be really important if there are a lot of people coming in and out. Going in to take a look. Wow! It looks like a party! Many of the people were sailor looking and some of the ladies weren't wearing hardly anything at all – really short dresses. They were all drinking, laughing, dancing to the loud music, and having a good time. She wanted to have a good time too!

Running inside to the dance floor, her two companions close behind her. Hearing many bawls of surprise and laughter of having her run in, but uncaring as she wanted to dance to the music. One of the ladies took her by the hands and danced with her. Laughing and giggling at having a dance partner. Her two companions dancing in their own way around her. When their dance was over the crowd applauded as the lady took her away from the dance floor. Not understanding where she was taking her until she stopped in front of a pretty lady with a full dress and curly blond hair. The girl she was with curtsied and left them.

"Why are you in here little girl?"

"I'm a boy ma'am."

The woman giggled, "I'm sure you are. Where's that cock between your legs boy?"

Oh, um…

"Pretend if you want little girl. But you will answer me: why are you here? This isn't a place for little girls."

"I heard the music and I wanted to dance." Well, it was the honest answer. Who wouldn't dance to nice music like that?

Feeling uncomfortable with the stares she was being given by the lady. "Come with me girl."

Almost declining, but she had her marbaris and if she did anything she'll be dog food. And she'll stab her for good measure! Leading her up the stairs to an expensive and heavily decorated room. From her upbringing it looked similar in style. The lady sat in one of the plush seats and commanded her to sit on the one beside her.

"Where are you from little girl? I know every orphan in this city, and you are not one of the orphans. None have two marbari companions." Her tone was authoritative and serious like her parents were when they scolded her.

"Um, up north?" That was pretty honest too.

"Your accent isn't Ferelden child. Sounds a little like the Free Marches. That sort of north?"

Time to shut it down. "Yeah. So? I'm travelling."

The lady smiled, but she didn't sense any meanness to it, "Well, I'm feeling generous today. I'll be kind to the weary traveling girl. Stay the night."

Pursing the lips at the seemingly kind lady, "What's this gonna cost me? Nothings free."

The lady laughed and said, "Oh to be young and jaded. It would cost you nothing little girl. This old woman is just kind to orphan children is all. Besides being the Madam here, I own all the orphanages here in Denerim."

Madam. Another word for whore, prostitute, courtesan. Remembering the words but not really knowing what they meant. Some of the older children from _back then_ would describe them as 'sellers of their bodies' but how could someone sell their body? She didn't look sold.

Dog One and Two weren't growling at her. So she must be alright. "Just for one night." Staying indoors for one night sounded really good.

"How's a bath sound? I'm sorry child but you smell of piss and the sewers."

She blushed from her words, a bath did sound good too. Nodding at that.

"Good. I have business to attend to. I'll have servants come and draw a bath for you."

She smiled, "Thank you Madam."

Within the next thirty minutes she was in a nice, hot bath. Left alone to her own devices. It felt so good! She must have spent forever just cleaning her hair. Jumping out of the tub once she was happy with her state of cleanliness and grabbing the towel that was left for her. Juggling her words into a tune and dancing to it while drying herself.

"I see someone is in good mood."

Turning around to see the Madam had come in. "It was a really nice bath, thank you."

Turns out she was actually a nice lady after all. It was embarrassing for her to receive a compliment on the natural color of her hair. Realizing that the gunk had fallen out to reveal the white color underneath.

"Well then, let me show you how to change the color proper."

Really? That was so cool! And it was made from plants that she could find outside too. Turns out it was a Ravaini trick one of her ladies taught them. That was real nice of them. She even fed her! Roast with potatoes and a crème pie for desert! And the clothes she gave her were simple but they were soft and clean too. Falling asleep on the floor even though the Madam told her she could sleep on the really big bed with her. No, she much preferred the floor with her marbari friends around her to keep her safe.

The next morning the Madam was at the mirror 'dolling' herself up. Yawning and looking at her. Yuck the things girls do to look 'pretty'.

"Good morning to you little girl."

"You too Madam. Is today a special day? Your putting on makeup."

"No more than usual. Though His Majesty is having court with some of the more common folk at the Palace. It's quite the spectacle to watch His Majesty sort issues of both the High and Low Freemen"

"Really? I've never seen King Maric before. I'll go too."

Check that off her adventure list! The opportunity to see Maric the Savior? Alright! She heard that he had the strength to cleave a nasty Orleasian chevalier in two with a swing of his mighty sword! And his armor gleamed brighter than the sun! Oh yeah she was going to go!

But first, she used the chamber pot to empty the contents of her tummy. _Again_! Maker this was irritating her! Some mornings were better than others but every morning for the past few weeks she's been spewing her guts in the morning! Maker's Breath!

The Madam looked at her in concern. "Child, how old are you?"

"Nine. I'll be ten soon." Why was she asking her age?

"How long have you been sick?"

"Um… a few weeks. But it's really weird that I'm sick when I wake up but I'm fine the rest of the day. Weird, huh?"

"Yes, that's… that's very strange." The Madam smiled but it seemed all wrong for some reason, "I have a drink that can help. Would you like some?"

She smiled, "Yes please!"

The Madam went into her cabinet and retrieved a real little bottle that was a purple color. "Here child drink this. It'll take a few days for full affect but the pains won't come back. Drink it all."

She did. Happy that something would stop her sickness.

Leaving The Pearl in high spirits and her two mabaris in prancing tow. Following the crowd of people to the Royal Palace. It wasn't as tall as the big white building further down, which she guessed was Fort Drakon. But it was still cool to look at. And it was just as grand as she thought it would be in a palace. High ceilings, tiled floors, and banners across the hall.

Pushing her way through the crowd to get a good view of the King. He was a lot older than what she thought. He had pale blond hair, a thick beard and a stern, hard look at him. He didn't wear armor, but a thick, purple doublet trimmed with red and gold. His cloak was red and had black fur around the collar. He wore his crown which had gems and little facets of marbaris. Ferelden's love mabaris and she liked them too. He did look fierce even though he wasn't what she expected.

Staying within the crowd and making herself as unassuming as possible as she listened to some of the testimonials by the High and Low Freemen as they were called. Actually liking how he was thinking when he called forth a punishment or whatever judgment he decided. He was actually really smart! He really is a King! Kings are supposed to be smart!

By the end of the testimonials he raised himself from his throne and walked down the aisle that separated the crowd and addressed them. During his speech she felt a strange shift in the air, like when _they_ would use lyrium. It was coming from the other side of the aisle and, focusing her ability, felt three of them channel their lyrium. Seeing them across the aisle. Bad. The look on them said 'bad'. All three raised their arm and had them pointing at the King. Sort of making out a weapon under their sleeves. Bad! _Bad_!

The King was walking in front of her when she shouted "Get down!" while breaking the barrier the guards made, rushing to him and pushing him down just as those bad people shot their weapons. Hearing the unfortunate gurgle of the guard that took the darts in the throat for him. One of the darts grazed her left cheek.

From there it was nothing but commotion from people shouting, screaming and guards barking orders.

"Get 'em boys!" commanding her marbaris go after the bad people.

It wasn't until later that she was able to sort out what happened after that. It all happened so fast! Those bad people had more in the crowd as they came forward to try and hurt the King. One of them cut down some of the guards before coming close. His Majesty was stunned from what happened, in a little daze looking at her. Obviously not thinking, in a little panic herself at seeing the man with murder on his mind coming straight for her and him. Focusing her mana like Havardr taught her, pulling an ethereal sword out of her hands at the last second and _whoosh_!

The bad man was cut asymmetrically from bottom to top. Blood spraying her and the King.

The next second the King held her arm in a fierce grip, her marbaris growling at him and the soldiers were pointing their weapons at her. The hall quiet.

She heard one word from the soldiers "Apostate."

Her heart sank. They knew! Stupid! _Stupid_!

"Lemme _go_!"

His grip too tight and the soldiers looking far too scary. Trying to control her marbaris not to attack. Death is final.

Hearing mutters from the soldiers about killing her marbaris.

"No! Don't hurt 'em!"

"Halt soldiers!" the King commanded.

She was beginning to cry, memories of the Circle in her head, "Please, let me _go_!" her voice full of emotion. Her marbaris growling and barking loudly.

"Little girl…" he said gently, "stop."

Not buying his gentle voice, "_No_! Not until you let me go!" Pulling harder to break his grip on her arm.

In a panic of not knowing what to do, she used her mana to push the soldiers down to the ground, wrapping her hand on the King's arm to cause a scorching burn to make him release her. Then, pushing him down like the soldiers.

"I'm sorry!" she shouted before turning her heels and running for the exit.

"Girl, come back!"

She didn't go back. The people looking at her started to melt as they were beginning to see her. She had to get out of the city and far, _far_ away! She's never going back to a Circle! Going on the back of Dog Two and having him ride her as fast as possible out of the city. Narrowly making it through the city gates before they closed.

_Don't look back, Kat. Don't look back._

Riding D1 and D2 to the point of exhaustion into a storm. Finding a crag that had a small cave for her to hide in. The storm in full swing outside – thunder cracking, wind howling, and rain dropping by the buckets. Her marbaris wrapping around her to protect her. Wiping her tears away and berating herself for being that stupid! There was no time think though! That was her problem though! She _didn't_ think!

A searing pain pulled on her insides. Howling out from the pain. It felt like someone kicked her in the gut! Crying again as another wave hit her tummy. As it continued she cried out as much as she cursed the Maker.

"What did I do?! What did I _do_ Maker?!" she screamed into the cold, cold world and the silent God.

* * *

**[A.N.]** What?! Is she really posting a chapter only a few days into the bi-weekliness of updating?! Yes I am. Well, this is an _Intermission_ chapter that has little to nothing to do with the current story. Just a fun little drabble that the Inspiration Raven decided to stab my brain with. I might do these from time to time just as a fun background story. Perhaps Ser Cully will be next on an Intermission chapter? I already have an idea for that and it'll be around the same time at this. He'll be around fourteen. Now, I've done my research and my Cullen is a little older than the one in _Inquisition_. Mine is 33 and canon Cullen is 29. Well, I was at a pretty good guess of how old he was before I knew how old he actually was.

This was supposed to be a short chapter, but turned into a freakin' monster the more I wrote. Supposed to be half Kat's and the other half Cullen's pov around the same time. But I'll save the Cullen Intermission for a later date. Who's up for awkward Cullen around puberty? Me!

If any of you guessed, the first year that Katja was on her own was a real rough period. Trying to maintain some sem-balance of calm from her time at Ostwick's Circle to figuring out how to be on her own. She is a _child_ during this time and as such she reacts like one at times. However, a rather mature child that can be surprisingly logical. This stems from two major events that happened during the two years at the Circle, and I've dropped hints in some of the chapters. So, I'll let you guys tell me what you think happened.

Since this is going to be a fuckin' huge ass story… and all the chapters are odes more or less to certain songs… prolly every ten chaps or so I'll post up the playlist for the titles in the A.N.s. For those of you who don't know, _A Mess of Blues_ is an Elvis Presley song. So, here they are so far…

1\. All Shook Up – Elvis Presley

2\. Condemnation – Depeche Mode

3\. Crazy Train – Ozzy Osborne

4\. Vicarious – Tool

5\. I'm Going Slightly Mad – Queen

6\. Thomas – A Perfect Circle

7\. Wreath of Barbs – :Wumpscut:

8\. Vermilion – Slipknot

9\. Prisonic Fairytale – Akira Yamaoka (the _Silent Hill 2_ OST)

10\. Fire in the Sky – Ozzy Osborne

11\. Fever – Elvis Presley/Madonna (either musical rendition)

12\. Doesn't Remind Me – Audioslave

13\. Lookin' Out My Back Door – Creedence Clearwater Revival

14\. Dragonborn – Jeremy Soule (the _TES: Skyrim_ OST)

15\. First Time Ever I Saw Your Face – Johnny Cash

16\. Secret Garden – Madonna

17\. Aerials – System of a Down

18\. Pride and Joy – Stevie Ray Vaughan

19\. Pretty Woman – Van Halen

Intermission 1. Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall – The Ink Spots feat. Ella Fitzgerald


	22. Papa Don't Preach

Chapter 20: Papa Don't Preach

That was such a good experience for her. Although it went from funny, to awkward, to painful, to happy – at least around him was never a dull moment! Katja never thought that having his fingers run through her hair was such a pleasant experience. His hands were methodical, but gentle; sending shivers down her spine. And he was ticklish on his sides! Having to remember that when the occasion calls for it.

It didn't really dawn on her the Commander's behavior until she left and thought about it.

He was shy. A respectful shy. Underneath that tough, military, commanding exterior was the heart of a shy boy who wanted the affection of the girl he loves. It was like there were two different Cullens inside that one body. Although she liked both versions. Katja will give him time like he said; he wasn't used to being with a woman like her. Maybe he was figuring it out as much as she was?

That's alright with her! They'll have more time to figure it out during their chess match tomorrow. Well, if their duties would permit. But, surely the Inquisition won't fall apart if they have a few hours to themselves?

But, back to business! Josie wanted her to make an appearance with some nobles. She didn't say what kind of nobles they were, and she actually said she could dress less formal than she would normally need to. There had to be something going on if she said that to her. Maybe she has a surprise for her? Did the other members of the Inner Circle knew? And she was just with Cullen! Did he know too?! It made her more resolute to know who these 'mystery nobles' were.

She was dressed rather casually in a cotton tunic, bronto leather pants, leather slip shoes, and her hair flowed freely after being brushed.

Meeting up with Josephine in her office, her grey eyes brightened when she came in.

"Oh good Inquisitor! Splendid. You look nice."

Raising her brow, "Um, this is how I normally look Josie."

"Oh right. Right."

It wasn't like the Ambassador to shuffle her words, "Are you alright Josie? I know you are about to introduce me to some nobles. I hope this is outfit isn't too casual."

"No! Not at all." She smiled but it seemed a little off, "In fact, it's a requirement to look how you are when you meet them."

"Oh good. At least there is one set of nobles that aren't that pompous about fashion."

"Do be careful with that, they might hear, Inquisitor. Well, shall we?" Giving her that same smile that was wrong.

Nodding to get the process over with the visiting dignitaries. Josephine leading the way.

"Now, we are going to meet them in the guest wing. His wife has a sickness that confines her to be indoors."

"That's fine."

Leading her to the guest wing using the familiar stairs and stones. However, Katja had the nagging feeling that something was going on that she was unaware of. She was stupid when it came to facial reads and body language that weren't negative in any manner, but something wasn't right here. Having the feeling before, but it was grating on her nerves. Maybe it was Josephine's nerves that were rubbing on her.

Coming up to the first guest door, Josephine opening it up for her and motioning her inside. It was very warm from the fire and smelled heavily of tobacco and a light fragrance of mead… mead that was mixed with juniper berries. The two nobles sat in the chairs facing the fire; the backs obscuring any visual cues.

Gears whirling in her head.

Josephine going to the front of them and curtsying. Obviously, it was some cue as one of them raised themselves up. By the body type it was male, an elderly male. Hair to his shoulders and a silver-grey color. He turned to face her.

Katja's heart hammered loudly in her chest and her hands started to shake. It was him, even if he was much older looking than in her memories. Age had been kind to him. His salt and pepper beard was now fully white, wrinkles more pronounced, the scar on his right temple, and his brown eyes that were an autumn red in the middle – firm but not without kindness – eyes that she would see when she looked too long in the mirror.

"It's been a while papa." She said.

He nodded, "And you have grown since then my Kat."

* * *

"Lieutenant, have your men post around the Western Road for those brigands. Work with the locals and the scouts to find their territory. If any surrender, hand them to the Arl for their dues. Be sure that any stolen goods that they have be returned to the Arling of South Reach."

"Yes Ser."

The Commander took note of the gentleman that came in during his duties with the Lieutenant. Calmly waiting by the door. Taking a precursor look at the man: he wore regal attire of a doublet, breeches, and a fur coat; his hair was a silver-white color that came to his shoulders; and an even whiter beard that was neatly trimmed.

It wasn't until the Lieutenant was dismissed that the (more than likely) noble came up to him and addressed himself.

"Afternoon Commander."

"Afternoon. May I help you?"

"Depends, the Lady Montilyet was helpful with her tour of Skyhold, but I'm more interested in direct discussions with the other commander's." The noble explained.

It was then he noticed the scar on his left temple, and his stern brown eyes that had a much lighter tint in the middle. The Commander could swear those eyes seem familiar. The man smelled heavily of pipe tobacco. He had heavy wrinkles on his face but the way he carried himself said that he didn't suffer lazy days and was used to positions of authority.

"Then, I hope to be of service. I didn't catch your name."

"My name isn't important. I'm more of an Ambassador of sorts, many of the noble houses in Ostwick are curious as to what one of their own has built with the Inquisition. I'm simply here to give an eye witness account." The man, ah, Ambassador explained.

Oh, that's right. Lady Katja was born in Ostwick. He was aware of that fact, but she has said little of that part of her. Perhaps this is that noble that she had to meet with earlier. Not exactly sure why he would have the need to seek him out if he has already spoken with the Lady Ambassador and the Inquisitor herself. It's the first time that a noble or 'Ambassador' would need to seek him out. However, if this would help he would bear being around a noble for a little while. He most certainly didn't want to inadvertly embarrass the lady Inquisitor.

"More specifically the Trevelyan's I assume." The Commander stated matter-of-factly.

The man chuckled, "You could say that. I've worked with them for many years and I very much remember Lady Katja as a little girl. Her mother would often complain of her unlady-likeness."

The Commander nearly laughed at that, he could see why.

"Perhaps it was for the best." The Ambassador continued, "She takes after her father in that regard; they are both survivors. Now, I would like a tour of your military base Commander."

The Commander nodded, "Of course Ambassador, this way. For the record, it is the Inquisition's military base, not mine." Opening the office door out, allowing the Ambassador first out of manners.

The Ambassador chuckled, "Modest, I see. You are the Commander, are you not?"

Is this man seriously trying to question his integrity? "I merely run the business of maintaining the forces by the Inquisitor's orders as part of my duty. And as part of my duty it is to make sure the forces are prepared and ready for any sort of situation as the Inquisitor calls for."

"A heavy responsibility then; considering how far the Inquisition has come from simple origins to a great organization. Now, show me what has been built."

On the way to the barracks, he was remembering his old war history lessons. Lady Katja's father is currently the Teyrn of Ostwick; Roderick Trevelyan. A famous war-hero during Starkhaven's attempted expansion across the Free Marches in 8:98. Nearly singlehandedly rallying the other city-states against Starkhaven. Though, he had to agree on the 'survivor' part – his lessons stated that for a period of a year he was imprisoned and a daring escape that led to the city's demise as he killed the Majesty and several of his officers in single-combat. A swift move that led to the end of the war and a 'reconstruction' pertaining to Starkhaven's dealings with the other city-states of the Free Marches.

His name during the war was The Swift Stallion. In part of his quick war tactics and his family crest of a galloping stallion over a sun.

If this man was an Ambassador of Ostwick then he was, in part, Teyrn Roderick's as well. The Commander didn't want to disappoint such a renowned war hero and the father of the woman that he has such a high amount of affection for.

Oh Maker's Breath…

The Ambassador must leave Skyhold with a high amount of praise regarding his commanding skills and the troops. One wrong move or phrase and he'll be reported as a bumbling fool and the troops disorganized. What will the Lady Inquisitor say?! No, he didn't want to think about it. Everything has to be perfect and in place.

The Commander thought it was going well. And it was about time for the evening drills, taking the Ambassador to the training fields to witness the troops movement. As the Commander watched him watch his troops, he was looking at them with an analytical eye, something that he would see in old veterans when inspecting for weakness.

"I see they are using templar techniques."

"They have to be ready for anything and that includes hostile mages."

"And I see that templars are training them."

"Many have volunteered into the ranks of the Inquisition's military since the Order has disbanded. Templars are still among the best trained even without lyrium."

"What a marvel this is. Though, I have to wonder, will this turn into an new Order? Templars training recruits and a templar as their Commander."

That was a very uncomfortable question. "The templars are under Knight-Commander Aedelric's command. He and I are jointly co-operating in the military's success."

"That's nice to hear, but that doesn't answer my question."

The Commander pursed his lips, "No, the remnants of the Order are separate onto themselves here. And no, I am not a templar. Not any longer."

The Ambassador chuckled, "You may have left the Order, but he Order hasn't left you. You still train them like they are templars and not rag-tag soldiers."

"They must be the best."

The Ambassador was silent a moment before he spoke again, "The Teyrn is curious and he requested that I ask you a question: do you train them like this because you honestly want them to be the best or to better protect the Inquisitor?"

_Oh Maker's Breath… I better have a good answer._

"Both."

"Both?" the Ambassador sounded skeptical.

"Where these soldiers go are representations of the Inquisition and the Inquisitor herself. And if extra forces are required where she travels too, they must be ready to better assist. They are not meat-shields."

"Rightly so Commander. Better prepared soldiers fight another day and less recruits to fill in their positions if they perish. Still, this is a bit of a marvel that has occurred here."

"What do you mean Ambassador?"

"Pardon my skepticism, but I highly doubt there wasn't a great howling once she was crowned Inquisitor by the templars here. I mean, they essentially are taking orders from her – a mage. Old habits you would say."

How to put that delicately, but honestly. There was a disapproval from the templars, but not as great as the Ambassador was suggesting. Many at first thought they would be dissolved completely, but the Lady Inquisitor has proven that wasn't her intention despite her origin.

"She has proven herself to them. Those who are here have seen that being a jailor of a mage hasn't been the best course of action for the Order. Many have more level heads than their other brethren."

The Ambassador nodded, "Ah yes, the ones in Ferelden and those among the red templars. It is a shame that the Order be reduced in such a fashion, though in a way, they brought it upon themselves. The Chantry needs to do better if they stop dancing around. Perhaps the Inquisition could set the Order to rights. After everything that's happened, I highly doubt the Order would go back to the Chantry or the mages here."

Of all the things that has happened, the Commander could agree with that. Too many of the failings of the Order and Circle came from the Chantry's own failings. Compounded with their own failings along the way.

"It isn't for me to decide. The Inquisitor hasn't failed the templars or mages here."

"Would you trust the decision though Commander? She could very well decide that dissolving the Order completely would be the best course of action."

That shook him a little. He had thought it was possible, but he didn't think it likely. Her word was law here. No. No she wouldn't. Those here have proven to be what the Order was supposed to be. Though, looking at the numbers here compared to those who didn't choose the Inquisition, it frightened the Commander that he was once a part of that. That he could have been a red templar.

_How much longer would that hatred have grown inside of me that could have turned into something more sinister._

"The templars have a place, and I trust that the Inquisitor sees that."

For a long moment the Ambassador was silent, his face stone-still and unreadable. "Perhaps, it was meant to happen Commander. Not without great pain. Although, it could have been worse. Are the templars free allies or have they pledged themselves?"

"Allies. Similar to the free mages here."

"Well, it is good to know that they have something in common then. Perhaps it is better that they are separated into different parts of the Inquisition. Wasn't that long ago that they were at each other's throats."

The Commander nodded in agreement.

"And there was one other thing Commander, it was a message that her parents wanted to tell you," the Ambassador came up to him and met his eyes, his hand wrapped around his arm firm, "if you harm her, you will never see another dawn."

His eyes dead serious and full of stern iron. It made the Commander feel as though he were a child being scolded by his elders. No, he would never hurt her.

Giving the Ambassador his own stern look, "Never."

"Good. And let me tell you from experience, they have spent years mourning her absence. It confounds them that she has chosen you of all people as a companion. It better be she has chosen you. She brought a lot of joy and pride to them, and the day she left –"

The Commander returned an iron grip to the Ambassador's arm, "I would sooner kill myself than to say one unkind thing to her."

* * *

Finally settling into his own bed. It had been a rather unusual day, but those could be expected from time to time. Staring up at the ceiling, looking out from the hole in his roof; the cool air coming in. The Commander could never fall asleep right away, always having to wait for the lull of sleep. Then the nightmares that would subsequently wake him and keep him up.

He was just about to fall asleep when a familiar rustling came from his roof. Then came the silken moon strands followed by her lithe body jumping over and into his loft. Her soft feet barely making a sound.

"Inquisitor?" he said quietly.

She didn't say anything as she disrobed sans her smallclothes, got under the covers, and molded her body to his side. Her warmth seeping into his flesh. Her head on his chest – the silky strands of hair wafting her scent into his nose and tickling his skin. Normally he would be a little shy about the situation, but something was off. He couldn't see her, but he could tell by the silence she had that something was wrong.

"Lady Katja?" he said using her name while wrapping his own arms around her.

Waiting for her to speak. To voice what was bothering her. Wanting to be a safe place for her.

"Mom and dad are here."

Oh, that's right. She did consent on them coming to meet her. But, why the Ambassador from earlier?

"It didn't go well?" daring to ask.

"Little of everything. I –" she sighed, "I don't know how to feel about them. I'm just… I'm just so _tired_ from it." Her hold tightened around him and he did the same with her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Very slowly and awkwardly, she began to talk. He didn't rush her, knowing that prying information from her wouldn't be the best course of action from him. Instead, he held her and listened. Gave her reassurances when needed. He had to be that for her.

"I thought they hated me. Because… you know. I didn't think they would be looking for me after I escaped the Circle. I was just so filled with hate, I couldn't go back. Too much hate and anger. But, I was so filled with wonder about the outside world. I never left Ostwick before then, so it was like an adventure to me. So I, never thought of them after. I was alright as long as… there were no templars around.

"Having them here. Talking to them. It reminded me… of what I once was before the Circle. What I lost since then. What was _taken_." Her nails digging into his skin, sensing her mana surging, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, "What did I do to deserve what was done? I was only a child."

Holding her closer to him, never flinching even from the pain of her nails digging into his skin as painful memories surfaced for her. He wasn't naïve to her pain. But, despite whatever sort of pain it was it was pain regardless. Pain needs an end. Not believing that she was with him despite whatever pain had caused her to hate templars with such a fashion. But, he could believe it too. He had the sort of pain and hate toward mages after his torment with them. He couldn't believe that he was with her.

The suffering they've done to each other. What he had done to them too. He had to be better. He must.

"I am so sorry." He whispered into her ear. "For whatever hurt you suffered, let me tell you that I am so sorry."

"Me too. For yours."

After that, it became easier for her. Lady Katja taking a moment to collect herself. Explaining her position politically. He was aware noble mages lose some of their status, but he was astounded that they lost everything. Her father really did care for his daughter if he tried to have her keep her status, even though it ultimately failed since the terms were never met. Though, templars go through the same status revoking once they are fully members.

The betrothal was and wasn't a surprise. It was the norm for noble houses and Lady Katja is no exception. Well, _was_ no exception.

"I'm technically no longer bound by the betrothal Cullen. Even if it was, I wouldn't go through with it. With everything that's happened, forcing myself into a marriage isn't something I would want to do."

That filled him with joy that she wasn't consenting to going through with the betrothal. She does have a choice now that she didn't have previously. Quite honestly, he didn't know if he'd get along with Irvin enough to _not_ want to throttle the man. But, the way Lady Katja described him, it most defiantly seemed as though he'd sooner throttle him. He wasn't that naïve to know what marriage means to noble houses. A passing of titles and inheritance. That's what marriage is. Paramours are for love.

_That's what I am. I am her paramour. Her love. I hope. If she would have me. Keep me. That's all I can give to her._

"Irvin will still be a problem if he's as threatening as your father warns." He said.

She nodded, "True. I would have to assess the situation about him."

It was then she got up to hover over him, her fingers running through his hair. In the dim light of the moon, he could just make out her face. The sensation of her fingers sent shivers down his spine.

"You know what marriage means right?" she asked.

"I know what marriage means Lady Inquisitor."

"Would you be angry if I had to make an alliance through marriage? Not with Irvin, but down the line?"

"I would –" he stopped himself before he said something drastic, "only if you must. I'm not naïve my lady. Marriage is for political gain. But, I would prefer that, if you had to, the man at least cared for you. And not take your stance of Inquisitor for granted."

It would be naïve for him to think that her political position wouldn't attract suitors. The Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, a dedicated army, pledges from every noble house, two Kingdoms in the Inquisition's debt , and… a healthy, viable, powerful woman at the helm. Who wouldn't want to share some of that wealth? All he could ask is that whomever comes cares for her. Because if that person doesn't… Maker help them he'd kill the man.

She nodded in the dim moon light, "I would hope so. At this point Cullen, I have no intention to." Laying herself back down; her head on his chest, "I'll have to see if Josephine has a box of letters from suitors hidden in her desk."

Sputtering a chuckle, "Remember those 'inquiries' after the Winter Palace for me?"

Chuckling at that, "'I'm not bait!' 'Hush Commander, just look pretty.'"

Sighing at her fiend attempt of vocal impersonation of himself and Lady Leliana. He couldn't help his grin plastering itself on his lips.

Lady Katja suddenly jumped up and hovered over him – her legs on either side of him, her warm feminine mound spreading on his abdominals – a finger tapping his hose and a smile on her lips.

"Just because my parents are here doesn't mean I have forgotten about our rematch tomorrow. You will suffer another agonizing defeat Ser Rutherford."

"Oh? Is that so Lady Inquisitor?" adopting his own nonchalant voice. "Perhaps, I will surprise you."

Her smile beamed brighter as she leaned in closer to him, her nose touching the tip of his. Hyper aware of her lower half sliding down his torso – the heat from her mound just above his manhood – the bottoms of her breasts resting on his chest, and her hard stomach molding with his own. Raising his hands to rest them on the curve of her waist.

"I like surprises from you my Commander." She whispered.

Sighing as the flush deepened on his face and body. Daring himself to kiss her full, smiling mouth – wanting her light deep within his soul.

Lady Katja moaned the deeper their kiss went. Their tongues caressing and insisting on the other. Not fighting the strong sensations that flooded his body. Letting it wrap around him like a cocoon, knowing that it was her that gave it to him. That it was her he was wrapped in.

Her lithe fingers caressed down his shoulders, chest and his sides. Maker he tried his best to stifle his chuckle as she tickled his sides like she had done earlier today. Hearing her soft laughter that graced his ears. Quickly lacing his fingers within her's and raising his torso up. An unrestrained blush danced on his face and down his shoulders as he realized what he had done.

He had lined up their nether parts. Her slit encasing around his semi-hard manhood. Just feeling that heat caused his member to throb.

"I – I'm sorry!"

Closing his eyes in embarrassment didn't help him. All he could see was her delectable femininity wrapping around him – so close to being within her liquid heat. The only saving grace was that their smallclothes were on.

"Why?" she breathed, slightly breathless, "You feel… really good."

Pressing herself closer into him, her strong legs wrapping around his waist. She gasped at the sensation when he omitted a low rumble. Their hands tightly woven together. With each passing second he grew harder and he could feel a liquid warmth seeping from her. Just hanging on by a thread to let her have him. He knew she wanted him like that. Oh Maker, he wanted her too.

Daring to open his eyes to look at her. Shivering and nearly losing all his self-control. The moon casted an eerie soft light on her skin, her hair reflecting like twinkling stars, her full lips slightly parted in lazy pleasure, and her eyes looking at him with adoration, the red pulsing through the dark blue of night. Red for passion. Red for love.

She sighed contently, "We don't have to do anything. I just… you just feel so good."

Swallowing the lump in his throat when he whispered thickly, "You too."

It was a few moments before Lady Katja released her hold on Cullen. Taking a few moments to cool themselves from the stirring heat that was built up.

Eventually, Lady Katja resumed her earlier position of laying on his side – her head on his chest, cradling next to him. On hand on her hip and the other clasped with her hand that was on his chest. He could feel her smile in the dark. After a while he could feel her steady breathing that signaled her was asleep.

While he was completely wide awake.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _He kept repeated to himself. The only thing missing was hitting his head on his desk. Or the wall. Or the floor. Maybe all three to be sure.

_She was emotionally distraught!_ He told himself, _A man doesn't take advantage of a woman when she's not herself._

You did enjoy it while it lasted. Didn't you Commander?

_Yes. Oh Maker yes. All I want is to make her sigh in pleasure. But I –_

What's stopping you from doing that?

Looking down at her sleeping face. The sweet, trustworthy expression. Completely in the throes of heavy slumber by the little drool coming down the corner of her full lips and soft snore. Smiling at the strange adorableness.

The lull of anxiety was crushing him.

_I don't deserve her._

The Commander was having a strange fascination with the blues twinkling in her hair and skin from the night and the shine of the moon. His heart hammering loudly. Pains dancing within his bones and skin; unfurling within his mind.

Drink from me, it called. _Drink_ from me.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thanks to the favs/follows from grumpygirl666, TheNightGirl, EverydayMagic17, willow0live, and Liteblue. And thanks to the reviews from Princess of Mirkwood2, Rae, and Lupi-wolf.

I hope the regulars noticed that I added an extra chapter in. The Inspiration Raven got me.

Warning: Author is rambling…

So I was reading on Tumblr on whether or not Cullen is a virgin or not. My personal thought is that no he's not. Frankly I have a hard time believing that a handsome, healthy man like Cullen didn't have the occasional sex. He might have had flings during his teen years but as he grew older those became sparse looking for something more stable and long-term. Plus, he's had no 'vows of chastity' when you ask. In my canon he is a regular with a lady of the Blooming Rose in Kirkwall. But only when his duties would permit a few times a year with the same lady. Primarily due to familiarity and not having a different one each time.

The fact that templars can go to those sorts of establishments (as long as it's quiet) doesn't raise eye brows. Since he 'made few friends' in Kirkwall, he would go to those establishments as a form of release. Well, as a distraction to 'clear his head' (no puns here). However, it shows his quiet and respectful demeanor, even when he could have said derogatory terms for a prostitute. Seeing them as men and women despite their profession.

However, those times he has casual sex doesn't deter him from his duties. He's a very focused and duty-driven individual and if it came to having a good time at the Blooming Rose and his duties, he would do his templar duties first before any sort of casual free time.

Since he is older and a bit wiser, if he has a relationship he wants it long-term. However, he's inexperienced when it comes to long-term relationships. Well, the romantic kind, since he was in a long-term relationship with the same lady at the Blooming Rose. Because of that, he's rather shy that his feelings are even warranted by the Inquisitor. Since he's been wanting to kiss her 'longer than he should admit.' Which shows that he would have self-control over his baser desires, and doesn't let them rule his thoughts. I highly doubt that if he didn't have a high level of self-control and a duty driven personality that he would be the last templar standing at Kinloch Hold in _Origins_.

As we get to know him in _Inquisition_, it's discovered that he's well… actually a warm individual. Cullen just as a sharp distinction between _the Commander_ and _Cullen_. _The Commander_ is that cold, military mind-set individual. _Cullen_ is a fluff-ball nerd who would actually share a few beers with you (while playing chess). Who else would say that "if you squint Lake Calenhad looks like a bunny" and if you say "we need more drinks!" in the Wicked Grace scene he's the first to say "I'll get them! Don't start without me!"

Frankly he's a virgin when it comes to romance and courtship not whether his cherry has been popped.


	23. Don't Dream It's Over

Chapter 21: Don't Dream It's Over

Soothing warmth radiated into Katja's skin as she was slowly waking. Faintly smelling dried thyme from her bed partner's natural scent. Then, she furrowed her brows in confusion.

Cullen wasn't beside her. The spot where he was during the night was cold.

_Maybe he's getting breakfast?_

It was still early, a faint dusking of purple shadow and gold hue from the rising sun. The morning was cool but not cold.

Stretching and yawning sleepy drowsiness from her bones. Smiling that she had spent the night with Cullen in his bed. The long talk that she had with her parents left her mentally and emotionally drained. The simple comfort of Cullen listening and giving encouragement was enough to make her a little better. She left her parents angry but she was happy over the reunion. They weren't exactly like her memories, but neither was she when they last saw her. It was a strange sensation that she still felt like that little girl when she realized who they were. And they in turn, talked to her like she was. Which only served to make her mad at points because she _wasn't_ a little girl anymore.

The phylactery was a surprise. Remembering that ritual before she even got settled into her room. When she escaped it hadn't occurred to her to grab it or destroy it. She thought it was when she… doesn't matter anymore. When they showed it to her and have it confirmed she was who she said she was, she immediately took it and smashed it. Katja didn't want something like that haunting her.

And… they _knew_.

Shaking her head over those memories. Not wanting to _think_ about it that early in the morning, especially a good morning.

The sweet memory of Cullen's and her intimacy was stirring up her desire. The hot kisses and touching. They didn't really do anything other than touch each other like that – she had seen his cock, but to have it nestled between herself –

_How am I gonna fit that thing inside me?_

Rubbing her thighs together to try to stifle her blossoming desire. It wasn't any good considering she was in his bed surrounded by his scent. Her clit throbbing insistently. Just like it throbbed when it was pressed on his hardening cock. Taking every ounce of her self-control not to rub herself on him to relieve some of that pressure, and to give him that same satisfaction. Becoming moist from having the fantasy image cloud her mind.

Katja knew that he didn't want to rush into their growing relationship, which is why she told him they didn't need to do anything. Even when instinct was howling at her to take his cock into herself and ride him until he screamed profanities. Her clit throbbed all the harder – insisting on stimulation. Her smallclothes becoming a little damp. She wasn't unschooled in herself to know that with the right mental image she could make herself cum in a few moments rubbing her clit. Especially as hyped up as she is now.

_He… he wouldn't mind if I relieve myself would he?_

Katja couldn't hear anything in the tower. Only the faint chirping of birds and the muffled voices of the stirring populace of Skyhold in the early morning hours. Extending her connection to see where he exactly was. Well, that's strange… he was right below her in his office. Feeling his Veil-pull go in and out in dramatic highs and lows.

Bang! _Bang!_

The thunderous noise had her spring from the bed in fright. It sounded like something was slamming against an equally hard material. The noise coming straight down from the Commander's office.

Quickly forgetting about her sparked desire – she leaped out of bed and looked down the opening of the loft to see into the office area.

In the purple gloom she saw the Commander kneeling hunched over in the corner of his office. Hearing his ragged breathing. Quickly climbing down the ladder and running to his side. He was trembling hard and panting like he had been running for hours. His hands clasped together as if in prayer. Glistening beads of sweat on his skin.

Placing her hand on his cold shoulder she whispered, "Cullen."

Sprinting upright like she had frightened him. He paled when he looked at her with wide eyes and pupils contracted. Crawling backwards away from her.

"You're here…" he breathed quietly.

"Yes I'm here. You don't have to run." She said to reassure him, to calm him.

"I prayed…. I prayed so hard… and you're here. Beloved Andraste you're _here_."

_Andraste? What the – oh _shit_. The withdrawals!_

At least it wasn't the worst thing someone has thought of her as. But, what to do with it? She didn't know if trying to break the hallucination was a good idea or not. The main thing was to keep him calm before the hallucination ended. Certain that it wouldn't last forever. He'd be more inclined to listen to her if he thought she was a holy figure. Made since, right? People tended to listen to holy figures.

Well, firstly, she had to get him calmed, safe, and secure until the withdrawal ended. Taking note that he doors were still locked. Good, less people that would see him like this and consequently go manic crazy. Then, use her ability to break the pooling lyrium crystals in his body. Lastly, have him rest from the exhaustion that came with the withdrawal.

She knew he was strong. Strong to resist the calling of the lyrium… so far. Katja wouldn't let him succumb to it's thirst on her watch! Right, keep him away from the lyrium. She would help and protect him during this momentary weakness and lapse in… sanity.

"Yes, I'm here Cullen." She said; going along with the illusion he had via the withdrawals.

Prostrating himself in front of her. Mentally groaning at the action but steeling her facial expression to that of calm. His body trembled with a wracking sob.

"Holy Andraste…. I can't – I just _can't_ anymore. The song is too strong. It won't let me have peace."

_It won't let me have peace._ The phrase echoed in her mind.

"Come here Cullen." She requested softly. Hesitating when he realized that she wanted to embrace him. "Do not be afraid."

"I shouldn't touch you. I –"

Cupping his face and smiling at him, and that was all it took before he wrapped himself around her. Holding onto her like she was a lifeline. His muscular body shook from trembles and he sobbed into her hair. That was not expected for her, to have him cry on her. Warmth and compassion bursting from her heart – thumping her body with the force. Holding him just as tightly as he was to her.

"Forgive me… forgive me… " he hoarsely repeated over and over.

"Cullen it's going to be alright –"

"No, it was never alright." he rasped out, "You know what I am. I'm a _monster_. The lyrium made me forget that I am a _monster_."

"No you're not!" Katja quickly proclaimed.

"How can you say that Holy Andraste?" surprise echoed in his voice along with his conviction, "You know what I did when I was a templar. My shame. My consent. My anger." Clutching, pressing tighter.

Tears started to mist in her eyes, "Because I know you are good."

His laugh was short, haughty, and bitter, "All the good that came after Uldred had his way with the templars at Ferelden's Circle. All the good when I was in Kirkwall. Their screams still echo in my mind. The lyrium quieted their pleas and when I slept. But, I was numb save for my paranoia and anger. What he did to break them and he made me _watch_."

He made me watch… He made me _watch_…

_"I want you to look Kitten."_

"He made me watch as he tortured, beat, and raped them. And he made me watch and he _laughed_ at me! When they couldn't take it no more he turned them. I had to stay strong for their memory; they were my friends! They were good templars that didn't deserve that sort of end! Then I felt the demons delve into my thoughts when they ran out of templars to torture.

"I was so sure it was another _trick_, another sick game when she came back. Solona Amell was the one thing I wanted but I couldn't have. Oh Blessed Andraste the things I said to her. I hope she knows I didn't mean them. I was so close to breaking when I saw her. I wanted another kiss from her. It was wrong of me. Wrong for us both. But, I loved her so. It was the worst day when I had to break us apart. Before that sweet flower bloomed in my heart. I couldn't and she couldn't. I couldn't help but to love her… she was so strong, kind and loving.

"I wouldn't be able to resist long if she was another trick. I hated myself for the shame. Angry that they were using her against me. I wanted to die and bury my shame. But, I was so _angry_. My growing anger blinded me. I wanted those mages that were strong to resist to die. I felt so convicted they couldn't have resisted the temptations of blood magic. They were _innocent_ and I wanted to kill them! Kill them _all_!"

_Kill them all…_ More words echoing in her mind.

"Every mage I saw was instantly guilty of being a maleficarum or demon in disguise." He continued on with his sobbing confession, her hair soaking in his tears, "It came to the point after the Tower was rebuilt that I almost killed an apprentice. I was so sure she was using blood magic on me to fall back into my shame. Greagoir stopped me and sent me to a cloister to calm down. But… there was no stopping what was in my heart. So I… was sent to Kirkwall."

Tears begun to manifest in her eyes as she closed them tightly, "You don't have to –"

"No!" he begged, "Take my confession Holy Andraste. Have mercy and let me confess.

"Meredith spoon-fed me more anger. Encouraged my paranoia and anger to them – even when it was unjustified. I should have seen through her and stopped her sooner. But I always thought in the back of my mind 'She is serving the city. Finally a Knight-Commander that gets it. That gets that mages aren't people.' I wouldn't go as far as she would despite the willing feedings of encouraged anger. I _should_ have known… I should have known what she was growing inside of me. A mage planted it inside of me and a templar tended to it. And I let her weed and let it grow and _fester_ in me!

"And then it happened again… with Marian Hawke. That accursed infatuation. How could I feel that way for a mage when I still had so much anger in me? I was sure it was blood magic again until the Viscount exempted her from the Circle. All our investigations turn nothing of her being maleficarum. But I was so _hateful_ and ashamed that it was happening to me again. Every time she served the city… Sweet Andraste… she planted something in me too. Too much of a fool I was didn't realize it. A flower in a garden of black, choking weeds in my heart.

"When Kirkwall fell apart and those months trying to rebuild… I just couldn't hold on to my anger or the Order anymore. I had started to question why. Why hold on to the anger? Why hold on to the Order? Why? Why? Why? The absolute _folly_ of it all. I wanted to drown in lyrium and to kill myself with it. When Cassandra gave me an out… Sweet Andraste… I didn't hesitate to leave. To leave it all behind. The bad memories, the Order, the lyrium… everything!

"The lyrium kept it all away. But it calls me. _Hounds_ me. My old life is banging on my door and I don't know how much longer I can keep it away. It is the lie upon my sleep. I am so ashamed Andraste for what I once was. The man I became after Ferelden. Help me be free from it Andraste. Help me please!"

Help me be free…

Help me be free…

Letting him continue to sob into her hair. Letting his pent up emotions release into her. She'll be here to catch him every time. Katja knows what this feels like. She knows. Silent tears dripped down her face from that painful knowledge. He knows too. Soothing her fingers into his hair and down his spine to calm him. Letting his tremors and tears to end before she spoke. Trying, wanting to be as calm and gentle as possible.

"Cullen, we all carry something we regret in our hearts. Even… even I do."

"How?" he asked shocked.

"That – that isn't the point. The point is, are you strong enough to carry it? To learn from it? To not let yourself fall back?"

"I – I don't know Andraste."

"Yes, you are. You've made it this far. All you need to do is to take steps away from it. Little by little. It won't happen overnight."

"But –"

Pushing him away just a little to look him in the eye she firmly stated, "Enough." Petting her hand across his face in what she hoped was a soothing fashion. Then, she smiled "Do you always beat yourself up?"

There was that spark of shyness she would see in him, "Um…"

Keeping her small smile as she wiped away the smudged tears on his face away even the bits of snot from his nose. He flushed and kept that shy expression she found endearing.

"Aren't you doing good now?" she asked. "With the Inquisition?"

Furrowing his brows like he was thinking about it – like _really_ hard. "I… think so."

Smelling that uncertainty in his demeanor, "I think you are Cullen. Can you tell me what those are?"

"Um…" back to that _really_ serious expression. Flushing brighter and it seemed as though he wouldn't speak.

So instead, she named one for him, "What of those soldiers you sent last week to help out in the Emerald Graves to get the refuges back to their homes?"

"Well… yes. It was to protect them from any remaining Freemen or red templars. I just… wanted to be sure they were all safe."

"Oh? What about the suggestion you made to give a day off for the soldiers per week? Or being concerned about distributing rations with our various refugee camps? Or going the extra mile to see to the medical needs of the troops? The last time I checked most military commanders are more concerned with results than the welfare of their troops or the displacement of those suffered by wartime."

Then, he was sputtering his words until she put a finger across his lips to silence him. "See? You are doing good. _You_ are good. You are good without lyrium. You are strong without it."

"I'm good." He whispered.

She nodded.

"I'm strong."

She smiled.

Cullen took a huge, deep breath. "Alright."

"Good." Nodding that he appeared better. Even though he was still in the midst of a hallucination where he thought she was Andraste. Coming to the conclusion that he need to rest for the day and she needed to dispel any lyrium pools in his body. Time to get him back to bed. Pulling herself up and hithering him to do the same.

"Now, come Cullen," she gently said to the ladder to his loft. "You need to rest for the day."

"But, the Inquisition –"

"Will be alright if you take a day for yourself. You do that for the troops. Do it for you too. You're not one of the trebuchets you're constantly calibrating."

An uneasy snicker came from him. Laughter is good. Then he turned dreadful, "I forgot! Lady Katja… oh, she must have heard the ruckus I was making and left."

_Oh, ah –ah – ah –_

"Actually she left before you awoke to get a new set of cloths and breakfast."

"She did?"

Katja nodded.

"Thank you for that. I'd hate to have her see me like this. I don't want her to think ill of me. Or that I'm too much trouble."

"Never. Now, up the ladder."

Doing so without complaint, following close behind him. Once up, she then motioned to the bed, and again he followed her lead. Pulling the covers up and having her wrap her arms around him. His head on her breast and his arms around her waist. Instantly telling that he was being pulled by the lull of sleep from his calm breathing and content silence.

"You smell like her." He whispered, with a touch of grogginess.

"Like who?"

"Lady Katja."

_Oh great, now he's gonna say that I stink._ However, at the same time she was curious of what he thought she smelt like. So, she bit the dust, and asked.

"Pine needles and grass after it rains."

_Really? I've always thought I smelt bad after a few days in the wilderness. It's what Dorian says anyway. Then again, he doesn't like trekking though the wilderness anyway._

"She smells like home." He mumbled just before he fell asleep. Making a soft snore in the back of this throat.

Letting out a breath of her own when she heard him snoozing away. Part one was over with; now she had to break the lyrium pool – wherever it was in his body. And not be distracted by his warm breath that was caressing her breasts causing the nipples to peak.

_Focus Katja. Your pervertness later._

Steeling and focusing her ability on Cullen's body. Just like last time, it pooled a tiny, sand speck amount within his brain, and like the time before, she expertly broke it apart. Then, he moaned in his sleep that she really should not have heard. The kind of moan that made her clit throb from her residual desire from earlier that morning.

_Your hopeless_, she chastised herself.

It was then she relaxed from the impromptu lyrium-withdrawal-hallucination that the Commander suffered so early in the morning. To process what he cried and bawled out during said hallucination. His confession when he believed she was Andraste. Fucking _balls_ – she knew he had past hurts, but shit. Just… shit.

_How alike we are Cullen. You just don't know._

Smiling over how strong he was. His diligent character. Yes, he almost had a relapse, but he had persevered and pulled through. In a less than prophetic way, but he pulled through. Knowing that the majority of his days he could do it – handle it.

_"I can endure it."_ As he once said.

Many of those days, she wasn't here for him. She was positive – certain – that he will continue to endure. Overcome and be free from the lyrium. The memories are a different story. She knew those repressed memories will come back to haunt him. Her own continued to haunt her. But, eventually – and she knows this to be fact from experience – they will have room in his heart to where it won't clash or poison the good in his heart.

Maker, when her parents came yesterday and stirred up those memories, she didn't feel the sting. That harsh, biting sting. It didn't hurt as much as it used to. She was grateful for that.

_One day Cullen… one day it won't hurt as much. You'll still endure, live and smile._

She too smiled at that knowledge. Knowledge that was harder than a stain that no amount of lye could be rid of. Katja will be just as hard to be rid of too.

Her stomach unceremoniously growled at its emptiness.

Mentally groaning. Also hearing the stirs from the residents of Skyhold. With that stirring came the awakening of the business of running the Inquisition. Right now, Cullen couldn't be the Commander today. Though, she was loath to leave his side, she knew he would be alright. She would have to be strong right now as when they parted due to missions and their duty. Self-agreeing that she'll be the Commander for today while he rested. Along with that, she'll be down in his office; only a ladder climb up if he requires anything from her.

Pealing herself off his warm skin and tucking him in. Taking a blissful pause at his sleeping visage. Hoping for a dreamless sleep for him. At the least a good dream.

Sighing and steeling herself away. Best get started before the messengers and reports pour in.

First things first: new clothes and some grub. She didn't think he would mind if she borrowed one of his shirts for the day.

* * *

**[A.N]** A thanks to Kryshna for the fav/follow!

Fuck, fucking fucker fuck. I went through two bottles of beer, too many cups of coffee, a mountain of Scooby snacks and boxes of pizza to write this chapter. Yet it's still rather short. Ugh! Thank you Cass for infecting me with your disgusted noise. Massive writer's block, my artistic sense has been pulled in a million directions, and I've recently purchased _the Witcher 3_. It's mostly Geralt's fault for my defective length in this chapter. And I'm not that adept to writing emotional shit.


	24. By My Side

Chapter 22: By My Side

"Lady Inquisitor, I have the reports from Captain Tarley from the Storm Coast here."

"Thank you Jim." She said as took and read the report, "Ask Josephine if she could convince Bann Newgar to reopen the port. That is all."

He saluted with a "Yes Inquisitor." But, he made no move to leave.

"Is there something else Jim?"

The messenger shifted his feet, "Permission to speak freely Lady Inquisitor?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"The, um, Commander… is he well? I mean, it's not like him to suddenly take a day off."

Arching her brows at the question. Well, Jim was Cullen's personal messenger, someone who interacts with him on a regular basis. Come to think of it it's unusual for him to take personal leave. Or, well, forced personal leave. However, she had to be careful, messengers and recruits alike are some of the worst gossipers, and she knew Cullen would like to keep their private affairs private. As far as she was aware, only she and the Inner Circle knew of Cullen's withdrawal of lyrium.

"It seems as though the last few weeks of constant all-nighters have caught up with the Commander. He'll be back tomorrow I assure you Jim. Thank you for your concern." Trying to act nonchalantly to put him at ease and whoever Jim will wind up telling too. Which she knew was going to happen when he left Cullen's office.

Jim saluted and left; leaving her with the paperwork; both her's and the Commander's.

Fucking Andraste's tits she hated it. She'll suck it up and live with it for a day. It had been only a matter of an hour or so ago that she assumed Cullen's Commander responsibilities for the day. She would soon leave to go to the training yard to watch the recruits. What nearly had her bust from her skin was Cassandra nearly splintering the left door off it's hinges and coming at her full force like a battering ram.

"What happened? Is the Commander alright? Where is he?" Nearly whip-lashing her with the force and speed of her questions along with her grabbing her shoulders and shaking her like a wind-blown tree.

"Whoa! Whoa Cass!" hanging on for dear life until she stopped. "Everything's fine. Cullen is resting for the day."

The Seeker squinted her eyes at her, which made her feel a _little_ uncomfortable. Looking up and down at her. Recognizing the look of bewildered surprise on her face.

"He's resting."

"Yes."

"In the loft?"

"Yes. Where else would he rest?"

The Seeker climbed hastily up the ladder to see for herself the Commander's condition. While she closed and locked the doors. Katja had sent a message to the Seeker about him after she had gotten her breakfast and gotten dressed. Knowing that she had that agreement to watch him during his withdrawals, she would be interested in his wellbeing during them. She was also curious if he has had similar experience as to the hallucination he acted out that morning.

Letting the Seeker work and evaluate him while she continued the Commander's duties until she came back down from the loft.

"He… is resting as you said. Rather peacefully I might add."

Cocking her brows, "Well, that would be the point Cass."

"Cullen told you he's no longer taking lyrium." More of a statement than a question.

"Yes. He told me a couple months ago. Is something wrong?"

"I am unsure. Could you explain what happened this morning?"

So Katja gave her a summary of the lyrium-withdrawal hallucination from that morning. Leaving out the details of the Commander's confession – just having it as a footnote. It wasn't her place to announce to the world his suffering on that part. The Seeker was honestly surprised that he listened to her and was a little taken aback that Cullen thought she was Andraste. Lastly, Katja convincing him to go to bed and her breaking the lyrium pool in his head. The Seeker having a shocked expression when she told her that.

"Come again? You can see lyrium in person's body?"

"Umm, yes." Why did she felt like she got caught doing something that was against social decorum?

"And you used this ability to break the lyrium to end the Commander's hallucination?"

"In a sense, yes."

"Why have you withheld this information?" The Seeker's gaze was hard and angry, "Surely you could have used it on the red templars."

"It's none of your business of what I can do!" Going on the defensive about her ability, "Besides, I rarely use that ability anyway; especially on the red templars. I tried it once and I won't again – it physically hurts me to do so."

That and you weren't born with the ability where you Katja? What price you paid for it.

"So, moving on Cass." Taking a deep breath before asking, "Is the Commander alright? I know you are to watch him."

Her unreading blue-grey eyes bore into her and a moment passed before she spoke, "I would have to speak to the Commander. But, for now he is stable. It's the first time that he has acted out on the lyrium hallucinations. He's done well with the withdrawal so far. Most templars who have done so by this point have been driven mad or have gone back to taking lyrium."

Katja nodded and added, "I know he can do it."

"As do I. Perhaps it was for the best that you were here when he had the hallucination considering. I'd hate to think what he would have done if it were another person."

"It's a moot point Cass. Are the hallucinations normal?"

"It varies on the degree. Perhaps it's the Commander's resilience that keeps him controlled during them. It's hard to say specifically. One templar's conditions may be different from another on severity and duration. The fact that he maintains himself during them gives me hope that he'll pull through and be lyrium-free."

"Me too." Her neutral-calm façade broke a fraction when she smiled, "He's strong."

The smile was caught by the Seeker. "He is. When Cullen is able, let him know that I wish to speak to him."

Nodding, "I understand."

"Oh, and Inquisitor, perhaps it would be wise to not be wearing one of the Commander's shirts."

Looking down at the oversized off-white cotton shirt. It was fresh, clean and smelled a little like him. She didn't think he would mind if she borrowed one for the day, right?

"Is something wrong with the shirt?" she asked bewildered. "I didn't think he would mind."

"I don't think he would either, but it maybe a little… inappropriate."

"Oh."

_Must be me being stupid again. I'll change in a little while._

"There are rumors Inquisitor of you and the Commander having a relationship." She said flatly.

Katja chuckled, "Well, hard for a rumor to be a rumor if it's true."

The Seeker scoffed and blinked in surprise. "I… I hadn't realized. It explains why you're in one of his shirts. Beg your pardon for my intrusion."

"It's alright Cass. It's a rather new development between us." Shrugging her shoulders in a nonchalant way.

Cocking her brows and squinting her eyes. Why was she doing that?

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing Inquisitor. It was just unexpected. I first heard that rumor from Varric and you know how much he loves to tell stories."

Laughing at that truth, "That he does."

"And… it doesn't concern you? Bother you I should say?"

"Why would Varric telling stories bother me? Wouldn't be Varric if he wasn't telling a tall tale."

"No, that not –" she sighed and shifted her feet, "I'm just concerned about Cullen's mental stability and your welfare during the low-times of his withdrawal. You've seen firsthand how nasty they can be coupled with his traumatic past."

"Cass…" she started, and began to rub her knuckles, "I can assure you it does not frighten me. Whatever he needs, I will give it. Freely and without stipulations."

"That is… that is good to hear. That is what he needs: support."

Katja nodded in agreement.

Then Cassandra's posture turned slack and lacking her usual seriousness, "I also heard that Teyrn and Lady Trevelyan are here."

Katja clasped her hands and looked away, "Yes."

"I… hope that everything went smoothly?"

Giving an uneasy smile when she replied cryptically, "It went as it should have."

"Then I'll… leave you to it then. Good day Inquisitor."

"You too Cass."

Letting out a shaky breath when the Seeker left the office. That was awkward to say the least. Now, back to work, but before that she'd best take care of Cass's advice and change her clothes. She didn't think that wearing Cullen's shirt would be considered inappropriate. However, it apparently is. Quickly heading to her quarters to change before the morning drills started. There were a few guests loitering in the main hall, but nothing she couldn't handle maneuvering.

That is, until a familiar, parental voice stopped her, "Good morning Kat."

Turning around very slowly to meet the man who softly called out to her, "Hi dad."

Noticing the twitch of his left eye and the clenching of his jaw when she turned around. "Are you well this morning?" he asked thickly.

"Um, yes. What of you?" Now a new realm of awkwardness welled within her as she noticed he was eyeing the shirt she was wearing.

_What is with people noticing that I'm wearing one of Cullen's shirts?_

"We are well. Would it be possible to speak later?"

Shifting her feet a little before she responded, "I would have to see."

The hardness in his eyes she would recognize softened, "Only if you are able. I understand that you are busy."

Nodding weakly.

"So… see you later Kat?"

"Yes. Um, you too dad."

_Fucking Andraste's titties this is one awkward morning!_ She thought distastefully as she hurried to her quarters to change.

Despite it being toward summer, it was still chilly outside. Putting on a rams-wool shirt and leather breeches; then, performing the rest of her morning routine before heading out to the training yard to watch the troops.

If the lieutenants were surprised to see her and not the Commander, they didn't show it nor inquire about it.

Once she returned to the Commander's tower, she went back up to his loft to check on him. Still fast asleep. He was just so adorable! And she didn't think she would like adorable. In a strange masculine way of being adorable. His curls were wildly splayed across the pillow, his mouth was slightly ajar with a little bit of drool coming out, softly snoring, the light from the morning sun that came out of his broken roof showed off the faint dusking of freckles on his chest, and his muscles were absolutely relaxed as he was splayed across the bed.

That and the tenting where his crotch was.

_Oh, what dreams are you having Commander?_ She thought ruefully.

Peeling her eyes away from the tantalizing display and returned Cullen's (slightly) used shirt back in the wardrobe. Then, she took a brief stock of his personal items on top of the short, waist-high wardrobe; all of which was in perfect alignment and order. Something very Cullen-like that she found amusing. He had a bone comb, an empty washbasin, a stack of neatly folded hand towels, a razor along with a bottle of cream for shaving, and a clear bottle that appeared to be empty. Curious as to what it was, she opened to bottle to sniff whatever concoction was once inside. It smelt faintly citrusy and the leftover substance was oily. It dawned on her what it was since she smelt the same fragrance from his hair.

_So, this is that stuff that he puts in his hair to 'tame his curls'._

Carefully putting the bottle back where he placed it and resumed her duties down in his office. Shaking off the bubbles of desire out of her body and putting on the Inquisitor face.

* * *

Bronze eyes shot awake as his body convulsed white-hot. Melting heat rippled through every muscled nerve and every hastily used breath. Even the chilled air seemed blazingly warm. Trying to calm himself from the exceedingly detailed dream.

He didn't even think that sort of thing would have him so hot. Not to the point where he came in his dream. The evidence soaking through his smalls. Images and tempting words replayed through his mind. Of her commanding him, and he obeying oh-so very easily.

"Open your mouth my templar." She would say.

He would as she would sit on him – suckling and kissing her. Every slick fold of skin and bundle of nerves. Every praise and sigh of pleasure had him surrender more.

"That's it, just your mouth. No touching."

Fisting his hands on his side in frustration as her sensuous hips rolled and pressed herself harder into him. Groaning out a, "Yes."

Then, she would ice her hands and use the fingertips to trace the contours of his body. The stark contrast jolted his skin – deepening his pleasure.

Mentally slapping himself to stop envisioning the dream and having his body respond. Instead, he concentrated on his breathing to calm himself. After a moment, he realized that Lady Katja wasn't in his bed. Much to his relief that she didn't see him in such a state. Maybe. Kind of. He didn't know! Thinking she must be up to get herself breakfast. Blinking away the bright sun in his eyes that came from the broken roof.

Sun.

In his eyes.

Horrid reality sunk in as he realized that he had overslept. Jumping out of bed and flinging the covers away from him. All the while cursing at himself for his lax behavior.

"Cullen?" Came the all-too-familiar voice of the Inquisitor from his office.

_Shit! Maker's Breath! Andraste's tits! Fuck!_

"I'll be right down Inquisitor!" he called out in the middle of putting on his breastplate. "Shit!" he swore when his hands were shaking to the point of being non-cooperative. Bronto-headedly ignoring his body's protests that increasingly became familiar from the lyrium withdrawals.

"Cullen?"

His body froze as he turned to see the Inquisitor standing just a few feet away from him. In all her beautiful glory.

"I'm so sorry Inquisitor! I hadn't realized I had overslept! I promise it won't happen again!" Absolute horror in his voice as he continued to try (and fail) at getting the straps on his breastplate to latch.

"Cullen, that won't be necessary. You can stop panicking now."

Finally getting _one_ latch strapped before moving on to the next ill-fated piece of –

Her warm hand stopped him and she had a smile on her face in amusement.

_What in Andraste's name is going on here?!_

"You don't have to worry about getting dressed today Cullen."

His mind took that the wrong way and he blushed.

"Not like that though. By Inquisitor's orders you are hereby given the day off as part of your recovery." She said smiling in delight.

"Day… off?" Confusion running a million miles in the Commander's head.

"You do know what a 'day off' is right?"

"Ah, yes. But, I haven't requested –"

"Don't worry, did it for you."

"In-Inquisitor, I appreciate the sentiment, but, um, you needn't do that for me."

Lady Katja gave him a queer look.

"I mean, wouldn't it look like favoritism? I can assure you I can fulfill my duties just fine."

She nodded, "I know. It's just you had a bit of a rough morning and I thought it would be best if you took a day of recovery. Cass says she wishes to speak to you when you're able."

Every thought in his mind froze, "Maker's Breath! I'm so sorry! Whatever it was I did this morning, I'm so sorry!"

She shrugged her shoulders, "It's no big deal. Besides, you didn't do anything _bad_. Cass just wants to check up on you to make sure you're progressing alright. But! Before you go, I have some food down the ladder since you missed breakfast."

His stomach made a loud, unceremonious growl. He blushed harder from the abruptness.

Lady Katja chuckled, "So, when you are finished getting dressed – in a more less hurried fashion – I'll have it set up. I'll see you in a moment." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, which caused him to have a flicker of a grin that pulled on his scar.

Once she had left him semi-alone in his loft, he let out the shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.

_Maker's balls… I shouldn't be doing this. This is too much. No! I have to do this! I must! But, this is what? The second? Or is it the third? Multiple times she's seen me like this! Maker's breath I don't even remember what I did this morning! I have to talk to Lady Cassandra immediately._

Looking at himself in the mirror caused him to be even more worried. He was paler than usual and had faint rings around his eyes.

_Preserve me Sweet Andraste. _

He was too shaky to have any sort of patience with buckling the rest of his armor set. Instead, settling on simple attire composing of his leather trousers, a cotton shirt, and a fur-lined vest. He noted something wrong with his shirt though, it smelled faintly woodsy. He knew it was clean; the servants brought this shirt in yesterday. Never mind. It wasn't important.

Then, doing his _best_ to comb out his curls. Cursing himself for forgetting to pick up some pomade yesterday. Maker's Breath, the last time he hadn't worn pomade was his early teen years.

_Oh yes Commander and you remember why you started wearing pomade?_

Flushing when that scattered memory of a _certain_ mage complimented him on his sleeked hair. Since then, him and pomade have been best friends. Sighing in annoyance when his hair was proving to be an uncooperative as the start of his day. At least the curls were a little orderly. Doubting they would stay that way for very long.

His stomach growled impatiently when the promise of food has thus-far been denied.

Fuck it.

Climbing down the ladder in said state and finding the Inquisitor quietly working on his desk. Literally. She was cross-legged in the middle of his desk, a pile of reports on one side and on the other was a plate of fruit, bread, and cheeses along with a bottle of rams milk.

The small smile she gave him made his stomach flutter as she beckoned him to the plate of food. His desk chair on the side for his posterior to grace. Doing so quietly as he began to eat what she brought for him. A strange mixture of being grateful that she thought to do so, but embarrassed that someone was taking care of him when he could do so himself. Perhaps it was just him that he felt awkward around her.

"I didn't know what kind of food you liked, so I brought a little of everything." She explained as he bit into a Ferelden apple. "Are you feeling better?"

Swallowing the apple thickly before he replied, "Yes. And, um, thank you. I'm sorry for whatever it was I did this morning."

Lady Katja smiled warmly at him, "I'm just glad you're alright, and there's no need to apologize. Like I said, you didn't do or say anything untowards. Even if you did, it wasn't you saying or doing them."

Her words caused a nervous fluttering in his gut. Her unquestioning trust despite him had episodes in her presence. Eating the rest of the apple in silence and forcing himself to eat it despite his nerves, along with a few swallows of the cold rams milk. All the while, she patiently continued to read the reports on the opposite side of her. Reports _he_ should be reading. As _his_ duty.

Pushing the self-loathing away as he cautiously stood up. Her eyes watching him.

"I'm going to see Lady Cassandra." He announced.

Lady Katja nodded and smiled, "But, before you go Cullen, I have something for you." She said as she reached into her breast bind and produced a small bottle. Despite his semi-grouchy mood, he managed to blush at her action, but curious as to what it was she had in her hand. Extending the hand out to him that had the bottle.

"I like your wild hair Cullen, but I know you like to be more… um, 'orderly'? – ah, 'put together'? – something like that. So, I went out and got you another bottle of that oil you put in your hair since I noticed you were out. 'Pomade' I think it's called. The one that uses Antivan lemon peel oil?"

Blinking his eyes in surprise. She knew which kind he uses?

She blushed deeply and spurted, "I'm sorry if this isn't the right kind! It's what yours smelt like and what your hair smells like. So, I thought this was the right kind."

Pulling on his scar in a grin and clasped his hand around the offered bottle, "Thank you. You guessed right."

Lady Katja sighed in relief and watched in faint curiosity as he applied the oil to his hair. Now he didn't feel so rugged like a molting deer. Placing the bottle on an empty corner of his desk for safe keeping. Looking at Lady Katja in reverence that she even considered giving him something so small and noticing. Going closer to her and pressed his forehead onto her's. Letting her calming smell waft into his nose.

"Thank you." Quietly grateful for her considerateness.

Also pleased that for once it was him that made her blush.

"It – it was nothing. Well… um, you were going to see Cassandra, right?"

Very slowly nodding taking in her blushing appearance before leaving. The closer he got to the training grounds the more anxious he became.

Finding Lady Cassandra in her usual training grounds with the dummies. Several have already been demolished, which wasn't unusual for the Seeker. The warrior woman's senses picked up on him on his fast approach and she immediately stopped her attacks. Sheathing her blade and eyeing him critically.

"There you are Commander."

"We need to speak immediately Lady Cassandra. About this morning – "

"I am aware Commander." She waved him off, "Come, we can speak privately in the forge building."

Once the door was closed, they had total privacy – all the workers have mysteriously disappeared as the building, which would normally have dozens of workers forging weapons to common items like nails, were suddenly vacant.

"Alright Commander, I need details on what you remember from this morning."

"That's just it Lady Cassandra, I don't remember a damn thing! I woke up thinking I had overslept. Really, is this normal? Is this what I should expect?"

She narrowed her eyes in is semi-panicked fit, "You've only had a few since you quite taking lyrium Cullen. This is only the first instance where you are unable to recall what you did during the episode."

"Yes, and how many more are to come? You know the risks Lady Cassandra!"

"I know Cullen. However, I'm starting to think that those risks are due to what the former templar does to get lyrium. And you haven't gone mad."

"Yet! Let's not forget the 'yet' part."

"And I have _yet_ to observe any symptoms of you going mad or even getting close to that point."

"She – " stopping himself to calm down a little, "The Inquisitor hinted that she was aware of what I was doing during my episode. Don't tell me that was the case."

"The Inquisitor gave me her recant of what transpired. And I for one, am glad she was there. As you should too considering her ability with lyrium."

"Maker's Breath!" Pinching his brow to stifle the impending headache. "I didn't hurt her did I?"

"From my observation, that didn't occur."

"Then what did happen?"

"Nothing as serious as you are thinking. You merely thought she was Andraste."

Swearing out a low, "Maker's Balls."

Cassandra continued, "Then, she convinced you to go back to bed after calming you down. And that's all she said that transpired."

Blinking in disbelief, "That's all?"

The Seeker nodded in affirmative.

"So, in my delusion I thought the Inquisitor was Andraste and she convinced me to go back to bed."

"As I said and what she told me."

"Are we really going to let this continue? What if I'm out in the field and this happens again? I'd be a liability waiting to happen! The Inquisitor's forces must take priority over my own. Do you honestly believe I can continue like this? Tell me true Seeker."

"Yes, I do." She point-blank told him.

"That's it?! That cannot be it! It would be better if you found a replacement that doesn't have the constant fear of a lyrium attack happening. And I cannot – !"

Cutting off his words when he saw the Seeker narrowing her brows seriously dangerous at him.

"I cannot fail the Inquisitor because I have been compromised. So, in your _opinion,_ that the course that I am on is satisfactory? That he current risks are of moot point in comparison to the Inquisitor's needs?"

"No more than what you have been dealing with the last several months. A replacement is out of the question."

"So… that is your unbiased Seeker _opinion_."

"_You_ asked for my opinion and I have given it. Why would you expect it to change?" Crossing her arms in annoyance.

"I expect you to keep your word! It's relentless… I can't - !"

"You give yourself too little credit."

"If I am unable to fulfill the vows I kept then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than to admit –"

To his horror, she came through the door, stopping his soon to be triad on the Seeker. Sighing heavily in defeat that it seemed no one could see he was beginning to lose. Or he felt like he was. Embarrassed that Lady Katja could have seen him lose his control and temper. He needed to get away.

"Forgive me." He said to her lowly like a kicked mabari before making his exit.

However, not before he heard the Seeker say, "And people say I'm stubborn, this is ridiculous."

He couldn't do this right now. He needed a quiet spot to calm himself. And to pray. To pray a lot. Hurriedly making his way to the Chantry. The room was cool from the mountain air and smelt of the light fragrance of the incense and candles. Save for the light coming through the window behind the idol, the room was dim. Thankful that the morning services were over by then, when meant the room was blessedly empty of parishioners. Then, he prostrated himself before Andraste as he began to pray and to clear his thoughts.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to the new favs/followers EverydayMagic17 and Dragon of Ice and Light. Also the Guest review.

Fuckin' Andraste's titties I had to stab some inspiration to write this chapter. Excuse me while I drool out grey matter.


	25. Here With Me

Chapter 23: Here With Me

Bright red eyes looked around the garden in a searching fashion. Many of the herbs have bloomed early thanks to Skyhold's safety from the elements. The dawnlotuses springing their floral perfume and the elfroot with it's more subtle earthiness. Along with every other herb and flower in between. Several of Skyhold's residents and visitors would come here for moments of quiet reflection either here or in the Chantry.

It was the Chantry that she had her sights on.

Quietly opening the door so she wouldn't disturb any parishioners. Well, a parishioner. The one she was searching for. He was prostrated lowly in front of the Andraste idol and muttering the Chant. Obviously distracted from any outside interference save his faith. Silent as a shadow, she went inside the Chantry and took a seat on the first row pew closest to the Commander. Patiently waiting for him to center himself.

_"Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him."_

_"It would destroy him…"_

_"…and he didn't want to… risk your disappointment."_

Those were the Seeker's words when she entered the forge building. She actually went there to talk to the lead smith about armor pieces for the troops, but she hadn't realized that it was vacant to accompany the private conversation of the Seeker and the Commander. And she unintentionally stopped them. From the way Cass spoke, it looked like her mind was already made by that point and the Commander was overreacting.

_I can never be disappointed in you my Commander._

Slowly, very slowly, Cullen raised himself from his prostrate position. Taking note that she was there in the Chantry with him. His eyes dark in the light; heavy with sadness. Crouching on her haunches, she made her way to the melancholic Commander. Filling the void on the left side of him.

"I think I'm too broken to be your Commander." He whispered.

"Being broken shouldn't stop you." She said kindly, "It hasn't stopped me from being the Inquisitor. Not only that, but I can think of no one else better suited to run our forces. Josephine and Leliana respect you despite their teasing. The troops respect and follow you unconditionally. And I – "

She blushed hard as he eagerly awaited her answer. Hoping, praying, and expecting the worst but that glimmer of tenderness bubbled underneath their skins. Clasping her hands and rubbing the knuckles harshly. Her chest tightened and sparks fluttered in her chest.

"I, um, care for you – ah, like you – a lot. Very much. I wouldn't – I mean – the Inquisition wouldn't be the same without you Cullen. Broken pieces and all." Swallowing the lump that gathered in her nervous demeanor, "I want you willingly – to be the Commander – I mean. I believe in you."

What she couldn't say is what was beating loudly in her heart. Making out the loud little child-like voice as it cried, _"Don't go. Don't leave me. Stay."_

It was irrational, she knew, he was just calling into question his ability to be the Commander. However, she couldn't help but feel that if he stopped at being the Commander that he would ultimately leave her side. He wouldn't be Cullen anymore.

He chuckled without any sort of mirth before his voice turned low, raspy and desperate, "I should be taking it. I should be _taking it!_"

Clutching his knees that caused his muscles and veins to contract; his bronze eyes darted at the floor wildly. Without warning, he raised his right hand and punched the stone floor. Hearing the distinctive crunch of bone and popping of cartilage. His jaw tightened from the pain but didn't cry out. Too full of repressed hurt, anger, anxiety to feel any sort of physical pain.

Burying the whiplash in her heart down and swallowing the constrictive lump in her throat. His self-inflicted hurt was all too familiar to her.

He's trying to drown out the mental pain with the physical.

Shifting her position so that she is sitting in front of him and leaning just so. Taking her shaking hands to cup the sides of his head and pressing her brow in his hair. She could smell his doubt, uncertainty, his _need_ just as clearly as she could feel the clenching of his jaw beneath her calloused hands. Hearing very clearly his soft, ragged breathing filled with both physical and mental ache. Unclothed pressures of emotion expanded in her heart like a bottle of ale that has been shook up too long and it was fit to burst. Tightly closing her eyes to keep herself from… doing something. Katja didn't know what.

Reswallowing the lump in her throat before she whispered, "If you take it you'll die." Surprised at how thick she sounded, pushing through with what she wanted to say. What he needed to hear from her. "You'll be alive but dead. And I don't want you to die."

Cullen stayed stark still save the shaking his body produced. She'll hold him as long as he needed her to. Raising his uninjured hand to rest on her's; tangling his masculine hand in her fallen hair in the process. Taking a few deep breaths of composure before he broke the contact she established on the top of his head. His bronze eyes were clear as if he had been fighting back tears. He looked _exhausted_.

"I need a moment." He whispered almost chokingly.

Nearly bawling when he said that. But getting a hold of herself. He needed to be alone for a while. He wasn't running away. He wasn't leaving. He needed his space.

She nodded but asked, "May I heal your hand?"

His face twitched, "Leave it be. Please."

Worrying her brows when she stated, "Not for too long alright? You, um, you know where I am if you need me."

He didn't nod or say anything more as she got up to leave him in the cool quiet of the Chantry.

The atmosphere of the garden was of stark difference than what lay just a few feet inside the Chantry. The afternoon sun was at his highest, the birds were in the Nevarran cherry trees, and butterflies and bees danced from flower to flower. Hearing the giggles of the small children that she recognized from the Circle and a few templar children as well that were playing and exploring.

Fighting the urge to run back in the Chantry and drag the Commander outside to see the beautiful garden. To shake him from his self-imposed exile in the constrictive cell of the Chantry. To tell him "Look! Look what we have built here!"

Steeling herself to not do so. It was a choice she couldn't make for him. She wasn't going to take his choice away.

The bell for the afternoon meal sounded. Lazily making her way to the main hall and serving herself a plate of food and bringing it out to the garden. Sitting on one of the stone benches to quietly eat her meal while taking turns watching the butterflies and bees in the flowerbeds and the Chantry door. Expanding her connection to the peaceful minds of the animals and insects of the garden. Their simple, instinctual, practical minds gave her a little relief from the churning chaos within herself.

Drawing out similarities between the bees and the Commander. They needed a purpose, a job, a duty. If they didn't have that, they were nothing and they would go extinct and die. It's brethren would cast the bee out and it would quickly starve and die. In fact, all the animals she's ever communicated with needed that or else they would wonder listlessly until a circumstance happened to where they perished. All animals had a choice even if that choice was instinctual.

She didn't want to cast him out. She didn't want to let him drift listlessly. Cullen had to make that choice. To choose his niche, his purpose, and his duty for himself.

Actually giggling when several of the songbirds plucked the pink cherry blossoms from the trees and put them in her hair then chirping out in song on her shoulders and arms. Katja continued to giggle merrily when those same bees and butterflies nestled on those cherry blossoms and wondered in her hair. Their tiny legs and antennae made her shiver. The balance of order and certainty reestablished itself in her. The churning in her stomach settled and she finished her food.

Sighing as she got up. Cullen will come out when he's ready to. Katja was certain. The songbirds repositioned themselves on her as she walked toward the kitchens to give them back her plate and fork. Ignoring the bashful stares she received from those who noticed her as she happily complimented the cook and scullery maids for their service.

Once she returned to the Commander's tower, she quickly and thoroughly went about her tasks. Noticing the strange and perturbed looks from the messengers and soldiers gave her, but nothing out of the ordinary. Inspiration struck her of a good way to clear Cullen's mind off his troubling thoughts. Taking only a short moment to have it set up on his arrival. Sure that he would enjoy it.

It was getting toward suppertime when a messenger came in stating that the Commander was asking for her on the battlement near Herald's Rest. Happily thanking the messenger and finishing up what she was working on before she scampered toward Herald's Rest.

Being up in the mountains caused the sun to set sooner than usual and in the twinkling pre-sunset light the Commander looked calmer and more himself. The gentle breeze shifting his golden hair as he closed his eyes to take in the fresh air. Feeling her heart beat that he was alright.

"I wanted to thank… you…" he started but died down when he turned to face her. Noticing the rise of his flushed cheeks as he took his uninjured hand to rub his neck. "Um, if their's anything…" Then, he sighed in defeat. "This sounded much better in my head."

Smiling when the Cullen she knew was coming around, "I trust you're feeling better?"

"I… yes."

"Is it always that bad?" she asked cautiously.

"The pain comes and goes. Sometimes it feels as though I'm back there. I… I shouldn't have pushed myself so hard."

Taking the extra step further to close the distance between them to hold his hand, "Skyhold won't fall to pieces if you take an hour for yourself if you need to."

"I'll keep that in mind." The flush rising higher on his cheeks. "And thank you… for everything." Turning himself to face her and presenting the hand that he had broke earlier. "You may."

_"I trust you"_ is what he meant.

Katja nodded acceptingly as she used his arm to lever the hand to examine it. The two middle knuckles were heavily swollen and bruised and the fingers pointed awkwardly. Using a scan spell to get a better sense of the injury. Just as she thought – the knuckles themselves were broken and the middle carpel was fractured. She would have to pop the fingers back into place before she healed his hand or else it won't mend proper.

She explained this to Cullen and he nodded again in permission. Quickly and methodically, she popped the fingers back into place; each time Cullen sucked in a breath. Then, she iced her hands to push the swelling down. While her ice was working, she casted a steady healing spell to make sure that every bone was in its proper place. Meticulously careful of each bone, cartilage, and tendon until her work was done. His hand was still a little swollen and bruised, but that will go down in time. Leaving behind a thin film of ice around the knuckles to help with the lingering inflammation.

Once she was finished, Cullen examined his hand – opening and closing his hand. "Feels stiff." He stated.

She nodded, "You'll have to work the tendons back to their normal elasticity once the swelling dissipates." Explaining the 'stiff feeling' away as normal.

"Th-thank you."

"Anytime Cullen. Also the next time you feel the need to punch something, make sure it's softer than granite." Elbowing his arm in a playful manner.

He chuckled uneasily and looked at her his normal shy expression that she has come to expect and love from him. Cullen's bronze eyes shined warmly despite the underlining of weariness. He raised his hands to cup her face, the thumbs rubbing back and forth soothingly on her cheeks. Feeling the hard calluses from his sword training on his fingers and inner-ridge – the skin on those patches were rough which caused her skin to tickle.

In the past, the action would have frightened her from _that time_. Laying to rest those old hurts and fears to look at him. Replacing _that face_ with Cullen's. Coming to her easier than the time in Skyhold's baths.

His warm bronze eyes, wheat colored hair, glowing skin, and the easy grin that pulled that salty-sweet scar on his lip. The light from the setting sun made him radiate and saturate his natural colors. Hearing an age-old beat through his hands that drummed in time with her's that swiftly traveled to her womanhood, where it caressed her clitoris and warmed her core.

Keeping her eyes open to take in every single imperfection, color, and texture. Her other senses widening to smell his natural scent of that earthy dried thyme and that lingering fragrance from his lemon pomade hitting the back of her throat – making her rub her tongue on the roof of her mouth at the tart deliciousness. Her mouth watering to have a taste and out of instinct, she licked her lips and rubbed them together. Seeing Cullen's bronze eyes dilating as he looked. A shaky breath escaped his parted pinkish lips.

Wanting – _needing_ to touch him. Resting her hands on his hip. Even though the thick vest and cotton shirt (the same one she wore that morning) she could still feel the radiating warmth from his skin and the hard battle-ready muscles.

With the barest of presses from her fingertips, he came closer to her until there was hardly any space between them. Her short stature had her looking up just a little and him down.

Her whole body hummed loudly and the drumming in her nerves beat louder as he leaned in to press those delectable lips on her's. Their noses brushed for the barest moment before he leaned just so for a better angle.

This wasn't the first time that they had kissed, but it was the first that she felt so hyper aware of herself and him. Katja didn't know whether it was the somersaults of events of the day or some deeply buried need surfacing within her. It wasn't until the next half-second that it an unbidden instinct clicked and it sprinted like a halla into every pore, every drop of pulsing blood in her.

He felt good. He felt whole. He felt _right_.

Opening her mouth and he _breathed_ into her like wind on a warm summer day. Filling her lungs with his calm devotion. A sobbing moan escaped her throat – cool beads of relief caressed behind her eyes. Sticking like smooth spider webs in a dew morning.

Pressing tighter to his salty lips and sucking on a patch of chapped skin. Cullen's groan vibrated her veins. Causing the connecting nerves to caress her clitoris and pool out wetness from her core. Tightening the iron grip she had on his hips while he glided his left hand behind her head. Tangling his thick hand in her unruly hair.

His eyes were slightly cracked to look her in the eye. A silent, uncomprehending, ancient message being sent through the tiny rings of molten bronze. Then, in that instant, they cinched up like he had tasted something foul and doing a backhanded windmill away from her and landing on his butt on the battlement. Swearing gibberish obstinacies for several seconds.

Her first thought was _"I'm gonna kill you if you don't get back here!"_ and the second thought was _"What the fuck is your problem?!"_

That was until she heard a buzzing sound to her left and saw one of her bees hovering where the Commander's head was.

Pressing her lips together to stop the slow build up of laughter to where she was snorting uncontrollably. Prickles of tears in her eyes. Unable to hold it in any longer, she howled out a gut-wrenching, full explosion of her lungs _laughter_. Doubling over and slapping her knee. Replaying that moment repeated in her mind. Each time funnier than the last.

"I – I – I am _sooo_ sorry Cullen, but that was really funn-he-_he-he!_"

"Di-did you do that on _purpose_?!" He cawed out red-faced.

"No!" she squealed loudly. Continuing to laugh hysterically to where tears were coming down her eyes.

Very slowly did the Commander turn from embarrassed, to chuckling, to laughing just as hard as she was. His throaty laughter mingling with her full-chested mirth. It took even longer for them to calm down enough or to even look at each other without going into a fit of giggles. Katja could feel the radiating heat from her cheeks and soreness from smiling. Cullen was likewise in the same state from his very red cheeks. Detecting a liquid smooth lightness to his bronze eyes.

She wasn't the best at facial reads, but she knew what happiness looked like. The heaviness that was once in them was gone and he didn't seem so _heavy_. He looked relaxed.

Squinting a brow and asking, "Why are their _bees_ in your hair?"

"They like the cherry blossoms." She explained.

"And… is that why there are also butterflies and songbirds on you as well?"

"Oh yes. Aren't they beautiful Cullen?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and stuttered out an "Oh… well, ah, yes."

Grinning when she influenced one of the red butterflies to fly to Cullen; landing square on his nose. Lazily flapping it's wings before it flew away.

Shifting his feet in a nervous demeanor before he quietly said, "You're… rather strange."

Not taking any sort of offense to his statement, but rebutting, "You are as well. But, that's alright. I like your strangeness."

Then, a wicked thought came to her. She made plans to cheer him up but now a new more _adventurous_ way to distract him came to her. They could do that first while it was still light then get on to Katja's more main event.

"I have an idea Cullen, let's be spontaneous for once." Grabbing his hand and leading him down the stairway down the battlement, "Follow me!"

"In-Inquisitor, ah, Lady Katja where are we going?" he stammered out.

Not letting go of his hand as she pulled him along with her across Skyhold. She was unaffected by the stares from soldiers to residents alike as she stated merrily, "A surprise!"

Opening the final door that exposed the large courtyard and in the middle was her dragon all curled up in a ball. Noticing her presence, Minstrel bobbed her head up and let out a yelp in happiness to see her. Unfurling her bright blue body and rubbed her stout head across Katja's torso. Petting her affectionately. A loud rumble from Minstrel's chest was the reward for her attentions.

Turning back to acknowledge the Commander, who looked like he had been iced by one of Vivienne's spells.

"Something the matter Cullen?" she asked.

"No, um, why are we here Lady Katja?"

She smiled and excitedly stated, "Where goin' on a ride!"

Cullen's face paled and at the same time he blanched, she felt the earthly tremble from Minstrel setting down.

Grabbing his hand again to help him up but she was met with heavy resistance. Tugging a little at the owner of said hand, but when the resistance was still in affect she looked back at him.

"C'mon Cullen! It'll be fun!"

"Um, I, ah, don't think that would be… a good idea my lady."

"Why not? I've ridden her a bunch of times. It's perfectly safe, I promise."

Prodding him a few more moments and he reluctantly climbed up Minstrel's front leg to sit at the base of her neck right behind Katja. Holding on to her waist tightly and was completely flushed behind her. The sensations of flushing rose on her cheeks from feeling the hard contours of his body.

"N-nothing fancy, alright? Just… a few laps around Skyhold."

"No problem Cullen."

Balling her hands together and popping out her heat-without-fire balls and having them circle around them. Then, shaking her head and with a silent command, the wildlife that was in her hair scattered away. Finally, with the gentle nudge to Minstrel's mind, she urged to her the sky.

Cullen held her tighter during this moment before Minstrel's wings had enough beating momentum to lift them up to the sky. Katja screamed in jubilation at the same time as Minstrel's own roar. The thud from her wings created a pressure inside her ears. Climbing higher and higher before she leveled off almost to the clouds.

"Hey, look Cullen –" cutting off her words when she turned her head to see that the Commander had closed his eyes shut. "Don't be afraid. Look isn't this beautiful Cullen?" she said as she rubbed the outside of his thigh to try and coax him to see the scenery. Much like trying to coax a frightened fennec out of it's den.

Tactilely, he partially opened one bronze eye and then both were open. The pressure from his arms around her eased slightly.

"My… my lady…"

There was fear, but that was overshadowed by his awe and wonder she saw on his face. He saw what she saw. The setting sun, the colors of the sky, the vast mountain range of the Frostbacks, and a small portion of it all was Skyhold.

"I know." She said as she leaned into him. "You see that?" Pointing to the horizon and curving her finger from one end to another.

Surprise hit him like an overused trebuchet, "It's… _curved_."

She smiled wickedly – they were the only two people that had a secret.

"The earth is round."

Cullen continued to look out at the horizon disbelieving what he was seeing. She had a similar expression when she noticed that as well. At how small their world was in comparison to the _bigness_ of Thedas and possibly the whole world. Perhaps the whole earth was tiny in comparison to what was beyond the stars and their two moons. It didn't take away that their _tininess_ was no less important than the bigness of everything.

After the second lap, he had relaxed enough to where he wasn't completely suffocating her.

"It's… cold up here." He said lamely.

"I know. Isn't it strange? It's like being underwater except we are in the air. That's why I casted my heat balls. Would you like to go inside a cloud Cullen?" she asked while pointing to one above them that was pink, purple and wispy.

"Um… s-sure." He replied weakly.

Cackling merrily as she directed Minstrel into the cloud. Pumping her wings with ease. Within a matter of moments, they were in the cloud. Extending her arms out and breathed in the fluffy wetness of the cloud. It was like being inside a fog but it was compressed into the sky in a puff of floaty wetness. It clicked in her mind when she first went inside a cloud that was the reason why clouds make rain and snow. Clouds are water.

When they came out of the cloud they were both damp and the sun was leaving a lingering purple haze. Having Minstrel go back down to Skyhold before it was completely dark.

In the courtyard for her dragon, she realized that she had a visitor.

With a swoop of her wings and thump of the landing they were back down to earth. Popping her heat balls in the process. Both her's and Cullen's clothes were slightly damp from their adventure into the cloud but she didn't mind. Helping Cullen down from Minstrel's back. His legs were shaky and a little bowed like he was trying to get his land-legs from being out to sea too long.

His breath was shaky and he had a grin on his face, signaling that he enjoyed it too. The earth shook as her dragon stretched and curled back up.

"Thought you'd enjoy that."

"Ah, well… yes. Thank you."

Then she felt the stern gaze of the visitor in the courtyard. Turning around to acknowledge him and Cullen followed suit. He bowed his head respectfully toward them. Although it was awkward, she did the same to him.

"It seems you do have a dragon as a pet Katja."

"Yes, I do dad. And she's more of a companion than a 'pet'. She doesn't _fetch_." Holding the Commander's arm as he steadied himself. She felt a brief tremble in his skin, but thought little of it.

"Though you could Kat. I wasn't… aware you could do that."

She swallowed the lump in her throat as a rebellious inclination resonated like smoldering quicksilver in the back of her mind, _"Yes," _it hissed,_ "there are many things you do not know of me papa."_

Instead, she said, "I have learned many ways to master my abilities."

Her papa nodded astutely, "You were always a resourceful child."

"I didn't have much say in that. It was either adapting or dying, and I had no intention in dying."

"A… apparently."

Taking a mental note when he raised his hands, but quickly stopping himself from finishing whatever motion he felt the need to do.

"Anyway Kat, I just… came to see what the ruckus was. I should have known that it wasn't an unusual circumstance because no one else seemed disturbed by it."

"Yes. I like to ride her when I can. I suppose that the residents have gotten used to it." She replied lamely.

"And Commander Rutherford accompanied you."

Her "Yes" was a dash of sarcasm because of the obviousness.

Teyrn Trevelyan narrowed his eyes at her sardonicness and replied, "Does the Commander do such activities often?"

He was speaking to her but was looking at Cullen. Katja could _swear_ she saw a glimmer of anger and something else she couldn't comprehend in her father's eyes.

"I asked it of him. What business is it of yours _dad_ that I ask the Commander to come with me riding?"

Even though his beard obscured his jaw, she could tell that he was clenching his teeth. He didn't respond for several moments. Katja was beginning to think that she may have made a mistake. With her father, with whom she has only been reunited with for a day after eighteen years apart. But he - ! He has no say in what she does. Not anymore. Most certainly, with what Cullen does with her as well!

"You're right. I have no business with whom my daughter asks to ride with her. My grown daughter."

The "anger" she saw in his eyes softened, though she still detected something else within his demeanor. Katja felt a sore spot in her gut over his words, but she didn't know why.

"Did you enjoy your ride with your dragon?" He asked evasively. Looking between her and Cullen in a fashion that was akin to nervousness.

"I did. Um, thank you for asking?" That was polite right?

"Yes. Well, I hope that… I will see you later? Your mother and I."

"Tomorrow. Probably."

"Alright. I'll… see you tomorrow then. Have a good evening Kat, Commander."

Leaving her and Cullen in the rapidly darkening courtyard. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she held in herself. Why must speaking to her parents come out as awkward? Her father in particular. And what was with those weird looks he was giving Cullen? Looking at said Commander, who had a perturbed look to him with concern mixed in.

"That was… your father?" he asked.

Katja nodded. Casting a ball of light to better illuminate the surroundings with themselves. Noting the shocked, surprised look that he was sporting.

"Is something wrong Cullen?"

Eyeing the swallowing of his throat, he responded, "No. I just wasn't expecting your father is all."

"Oh." Shuffling her feet, and in a bid to change the subject, she said excitedly, "Anyway, I have a surprise for you in your quarters. Come with me!"

Grabbing and holding his hand like what happened earlier. Her little werelight following them obediently to Cullen's tower. Meanwhile, said Commander was sputtering gibberish at the thought of a surprise for him. Quietly ignoring his protests when she threw open the door, pulled him inside and locked the door.

"Stay here." She commanded.

Locking the rest of the doors and climbing up to his loft. Double checking to make sure everything was perfect. Casting several werelights and heat balls – surging extra mana to warm up the loft quickly. Disrobing her damp, cold clothes sans her small clothes and hopping on top of the bed. Satisfied that everything seemed in order, she told the bewildered Commander to come up.

Waiting those agonizing moments as he climbed the loft ladder, each creak and groan of wood an indicator that he was drawing closer. Her happy, excitement hyping her up. Until, finally, his blond hair peaked over the top of the ladder followed by a set of bronze eyes. A hearty flush blossomed across his cheeks and his mouth slack at his surprise. His movements clumsy, as he climbed over the top of the ladder and stood in the middle of his loft with a slack expression.

"In-Inquisitor… Lady Katja… I, ah."

"I hoped you would like it! I found your chess set and got a bed tray to set it on so we could have a match in bed. I have some herbal tea going on top of this serving tray," she said pointing to the tray perpendicular to the one with his chess set, "along with some stew over some warming runes. I also asked the servants to make those little apple-walnut cakes that I hear Fereldens love as well.

"Well, don't just stand there like a slack-jawed fennec! Get in the bed!"

His blush turned redder at her words but approached his bed regardless. Darting his eyes between her and the tray of food and tea.

"You… you didn't have to do this for me. I – I – I mean, I appreciate the gesture, truly I do." Doing his nervous tick of rubbing the back of his neck. "This wasn't what I was expecting."

"As long as you enjoy yourself, even if it's for one evening. It's about relaxation and the thrill of a good match Cullen. And, um," her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, "getting to know one another better. If that's alright with you."

"Um, yes, I would like that. Very much."

"Oh good! And take off those clothes."

"Er, _what_?!" His jaw nearly fell off his face.

Lightly slapping herself on her cheek over her blunt statement, "Damn, I'm sorry. I meant that your clothes are wet, and you should take them off before you come join me. It'll be more comfortable that way. Besides my heat balls will warm the loft up, so that we won't catch a chill."

His blush still in affect on his face, "Oh, right. That's what you meant. Of course. Um…"

Making the movements to unbutton his fur lined vest when he saw that Katja was looking at him.

"Could you… not look… while I'm undressing? Please?"

Blinking at him; not understanding why she should advert her eyes. Maybe it was a shy-thing? Closing her eyes to give him some respite. Hearing shuffling noises as she heard him disrobe. With the unlacing of his boots, the flick of his shirt, and the thunk of his pants. Her picturesque memory happily filling in the details to go along with the noises of him disrobing. Feeling her heart picking up speed over the imagery that her mind was supplying. Never believing that it would be alluring to see someone disrobing for her. Well, technically she wasn't 'seeing' anything but what her picturesque mind would come up with.

Then, came the soft pattering of his feet before she felt the bed depressing and creaking to accommodate the Commander's added weight.

"Alright. I'm ready. I mean! To play chess. Ah, you can open your eyes now."

"Good!" she excitedly said as she shot her eyes open. "Now! One more thing Cullen, well, two things. One: we will not refer to titles during our match; and two: each move we make we ask the other a question and they, in turn, will ask their own question after their response. Deal?"

"Deal." Sporting his customary shy grin at her. "Ladies first, um… Katja."

"Why thank you Cullen! Now, my first question, umm… What do you like to read?" Moving a piece right after her question. Then, pouring them each a cup of the herbal tea she made, handing Cullen a mug of the steamy tea.

He chuckled softly and responded, "Most would consider it dry reading about war statistics and history. It's mostly history though.

"Um, my turn. What was _your_ favorite thing to read?" He asked while pouring some honey into his tea, sipping contently.

"Well, when I was a child I loved reading adventure books. I still do. It's just that I've grown more fond of mathematics. I didn't have much of an appreciation for numbers when I was a child. It was when I was an apostate that I developed a fondness for numbers.

"Now, my question, um: What was the silliest thing you've ever done?"

"Oh, um…" he rubbed the back of his neck, blushed and nervously laughed, "it would have to be when I was about ten years old I put a toad in my sister's dress. I was rather annoyed at her – I suppose it's an older sister thing – when I decided to put a toad in her dress. It was the same one that she planned on wearing on an evening stroll with her boyfriend at the time. Come time to wear it, it leapt out of the frills and scared her, alerting every soul in the house. The look on her face was priceless."

By the end of the short story, Katja was stifling a giggle and Cullen was chuckling.

"So, my question: Why do you like to read about mathematics?"

"Um… how to put this… it's the precision. The logical, numerical precision. An unlocking of perfection. It's like a stratagem of predictability that can be calculated and exploited. I see numbers and calculations in everything, even when I'm smithing or mock fighting or handing down a judgment. Some think it's logic that I'm going by, but it's mathematical formula. At least, it is for me.

"So, my question for you Cullen: Why do you like to wear pomade?"

"Well, it's rather a silly story to think back on it. It was originally a prank from some of my recruit friends when I was still training and I had to leave it in for a day. And um… one of the mages… Solona… she… liked it. It was youthful infatuation on my part and rather naïve childish whim that I kept on wearing it after. I soon liked it myself and couldn't see myself without wearing it.

"My turn: I've told you of my tenure in the Order. But you've said little of your time at a Circle."

It was an innocent question, but to her it pulled at uneasy strings. "I'm afraid of what you think of me if I tell you. I'm not that person anymore! I promise."

He held her hand, and spoke quiet love to her, "Whatever you were, I know I care for the one standing here with me."

Smiling cautiously, a little reassured, "It was the worst experience of my life."

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry. If you are not ready –"

Tightening her grip on his hand, "No. It wasn't completely bad, for a time. My brother was a templar, and he was stationed there. I would sneak into the barracks at night to see him. Though, I did that even before I went into the Circle." Smiling at the happy memory of braveness, laughter, and young stupidity. "He made living at the Circle bearable. And when I dreamed, Havardr kept me company. Helping me hone my abilities that the Circle couldn't provide.

"Would you be surprised to know that I was fascinated by the templars?"

The Commander quirked a confused brow at her, "A little."

"I suppose having a brother as one dispelled some of my fears of them. I would sneak out to see them train. I was oddly curious and fascinated by their mental focus and discipline. Something that I would mirror when I was alone for a few moments in my room. I would take out Cat's Tooth and practice their stances. Though, I really let loose in my dreams."

Chuckling softly at a memory, "One time my brother caught me practicing their stances. Warned me to be more cautious about that. Then, a few days later, at night, he brought me out of bed into an empty courtyard, rapt my head with a wooden sword and said 'Let's see what you got sister.'

"'I don't want you to get into trouble.' I said.

"'Don't worry, I've got it covered.'

"After, he asked how it was that I knew so much. It couldn't be from just watching them train or when I would fight the cook's son. I told him about my training in my dreams with Havardr. He… he got real quiet and whispered into my ear 'Keep that a secret Big Kat. Promise me you'll keep that secret.' I did but, at the time, I didn't understand why.

"This went on for about a month, when one of the other templars caught us and reported it to the Knight-Commander. We were… harshly disciplined for that. Then… then I found out that he was being reassigned to another Tower. I cried. I cried the moment I found out to be true and I cried when he left. That was the second worst day of my life.

"I was truly alone at Ostwick's Circle. I didn't have any mage friends – they all thought I was a freak with my abilities and would often pick on me. And the templars… well, they were templars. The one's that were my brother's friends would nod at me, but little else. All I had was Havardr in my dreams."

Cullen sighed sadly, "I'm sorry that it was like that for you. If it were me, I would have seen the potential as a Knight-Enchanter. It isn't unheard of for a mage to go into that sort of discipline. Though, it is unheard of for a mage that young to be entering such a field. I most certainly wouldn't have punished either of you for being siblings. Perhaps a slap on the wrist but little else."

Katja smiled, "You would have been a better Knight-Commander. In many ways. The _you_ now, I mean."

"Oh, um, I'm glad you think so." He rubbed the back of his head, "With this talk of your brother, you've never really mentioned him. I've read the letter your father sent to Mother Giselle. Do you know what became of him?"

That truly made her sad, "I don't know. The day he left was the last time I saw him. Wherever he is, I hope he's safe and happy."

"You're… not even worried? Not knowing what has become of him? I could search for him. I'm still respected among the templars, I could do a query."

"No. _Don't_."

"Why?"

"If he… if he ever was turned into a Red Templar. I don't want to know. I want to keep the brother I had that's in my memories. Not the red, contorted version of him."

"What if he's not? He could still be out there."

She smiled uneasily, "I'll be easier to find now, than me trying to find him. If he's out there, no doubt he has heard of the Inquisition and the Trevelyan as it's Inquisitor. But so far… nothing."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't considered. What was his name? You've always called him 'your brother'."

She gave him a suspicious glare before relenting, "Aedelric. He was a big bruiser type. Which I affectionately called him 'Little Great Bear'. It's rather funny think of us side-by-side. Me: short and lanky. Him: big and tall." Smiling, "When he would put me on his shoulders, it was like I was riding a mountain. And when he trained with the other templars, he was a full head taller than them.

"But, that's enough of that! You've been asking all the questions Cullen! I should ask you a few to make up for it!"

After that brief unpleasantness, the banter turned lighter between the two. Playing until it was at least midnight. Brews of tea have been sipped, the stew had been consumed, and the apple-walnut cakes have been merrily munched on.

Katja won again and Cullen swore a merciless comeback.

Working together to put Cullen's chess set back in it's custom made case.

"I have to wonder, where did you find such an exquisite chess set Cullen?"

He grinned despite himself, "I had a healthy pay check when I was a templar Knight-Captain. I had little to spend the money on save a book here or there and this set. In addition, my family insisted they didn't need the money from me, despite the Blight they were well off and able to rebuild in South Reach. This is the only lavish thing I owned when I was a templar. This set has seen the mage rebellion in Kirkwall, the Conclave, and the burning of Haven. I thought I had lost it at Haven, until Leliana brought it to me a few months ago."

"Well, it explains the scratches and burns on the case."

"Indeed."

Falling down with calm acceptance as she felt the Commander's muscled body as he spooned behind her while pulling the bed sheets up. His warm, rhythmic puffs of breath caressed her hair and ear, which were in time with the rise and fall of his chest. His arm draping over her waist; taking it and pulling it to her chest to hold his hand and he tightened his hold on her hand too. Their lean legs tangling over each other. In a momentary diversion, she had her big toe rub along the arch of a foot. Earning her a snort from the foot's owner. Just a moment of sweet playfulness between them.

As they settled into position, Katja dimmed and vanished her lights. Eclipsing her and Cullen in the dark blue of night. The rays of the moons streaking their silky light though the hole in his tower.

Knowing that he was here – present, aware, himself – that he would always be a fleshy fortress of safe, solid comfort. Just like she knew that the earth was round and clouds are water.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to MidnytLove, randomcassie8, WhiteCherryBlossom99, Alucard45, TaraUzumaki, MrsPamelaScissorhands, and Alucard's-Master for the fav/follows! And reviews from MidnytLove and Teddy bear 007‼

Sorry for the delay in this chapter. Storms blew the internet here and I had no connection for three days.


	26. In Your Room

Chapter 24: In Your Room

Slowly, very slowly did a pair of reddish eyes awake from her slumber. Breathing a heavy sigh to rouse her from lingering calls of sleep. Waking in the same position that she and Cullen went to sleep to begin with. His warm, muscle bound body spooning her, cradling her in his own fleshy, solid ball of goodness. Taking a brief note at the angle of the moonshine through the windows. She would have late night restlessness from time to time. In a few hours, it will be dawn.

Katja liked this time of night. She would wake especially clear-headed and thoughtful and whatever was plaguing her the previous day, she would then have a more able solution during this time.

If there was nothing worthy of sorting, she would then become aroused. Her wild, running mind would drift there easily. Especially if she had a dream that came before awaking. Which was true in this case. The causation of the dream was spooning against her.

Cullen's heavy, slumber driven breaths on her neck, his arms around her waist, lean legs tangled with her's, and a hard press between her thighs.

Seems as though she wasn't the only one having arousing dreams.

Her arousal sparking in her spine and tingling down to the apex of her thighs. The nerves caressing her clit, stiffening it and making it throb. Her nipples perking her small, full breasts.

The saying "Caught between a rock and a hard place" fit perfectly for her situation.

On one hand, she had the urge to masturbate. On the other hand, if she moved, there was a risk of waking Cullen. Who had a rough twenty-four hours and needed his rest. If he wasn't spooning her, she could take care of herself quietly. She loved the spooning, don't get her wrong, but it was not the position for her to slip away and resolve her needs.

If he would just fucking move – !

Cullen snorted and turned to lay on his back.

Staying stark still and paying attention to the sounds of his breathing.

Thank Andraste's bouncy tittes and the Maker's shiny nut-sack! He moved!

Now she could indulge without the risk of waking him. However, she did feel a pang of disappointment from not having his body warmth near her, but she can roll back toward his side once she was finished.

* * *

The Commander nearly wanted to fall into Skyhold's masonry.

He had woken in the middle of the night after another one of his fantasy dreams. His cock rapt at attention. Thanking the Maker that he wasn't spooned next to Lady Katja to where she could feel it. Waiting for his body to calm down so he won't feel totally embarrassed.

Hearing a muffled sigh. _That_ kind of sigh and it wasn't him that made it.

Turning his head to where Lady Katja was on his bed and he nearly liquefied himself.

She. Was. Touching. Her. Self.

On his bed!

He should leave! Um, give her some privacy! Immediately!

The problem was that he couldn't stop watching!

She was on her back, legs bent at the knee and apart, her right hand nestled between her legs, and her left arm draped over her face. Completely mesmerized by the arch of her spine and the sway of her hips, that was caused by her rubbing her clitoris. Her small, full breasts perked from the hard nipples at the tip, begging him to touch, to _taste_. Her thick moon hair splayed across his pillow, the cherry blossoms peeking out from the tresses. Her lean, defined body bathed in the moon light – casting a sensual play on her skin that was dimpling from the chilled, mountain air.

Her woodsy scent wafted into the air along with the strong smell of her sex. Hearing her sweet nectar swirl around her folds, slicking her to her digits as she continued to rub her clit. Up. Down. Side to side. Fast, then slow. Building herself up. Taking the tips of her fingers and patting her sure to be stiffened nub. Gasping at her pleasure. The grey hair on her mound sparkled and framed her sex delicately.

Cullen was frozen as he watched the sensual display that she had over her body. That affected his own – his breaths were ragged, heartbeat erratic and his sex throbbed mercilessly. Begging for stimulation. Keeping his hands and eyes where they were. Completely captivated. The cooing sighs and gasps were a siren song for him.

The hand that she had draped over her face made its way down her body – tickling her skin. Down to where it joined its twin, the digits parting her labia to where he could see her stiffened clitoris poking out if it's protective hood. Fat, swollen, and glistening in the moon light.

Drawing light circles around the exposed nub and petting on the underside. Earning a rugged hiss and roll of her hips from the self-tease. He wanted to be those fingers. For it to be his lips – his tongue – instead that sucked her, licked her. To have those sweet folds on the corners of his mouth as his mouth pleasured her and his nose inhaling deeply her scent.

His eyes caressing her skin as he looked upward to her face. Pass the hard, sway of her belly that he wanted to feel the rhythm next to. Pass the plump, peeked breasts that he longed to cup and tease. Pass the curve her neck that he ached to kiss, lick, and mark. Lady Katja's full lips parted wide in an 'O' shape that the most delightful moans came forth. Her large, almond shaped eyes were blessedly closed and brows furrowed from the amount of pleasure she was giving herself.

"Cullen…" she called, _moaned_ out.

His mouth had run dry. She was calling for him. Thinking of him doing that to her. That she was imagining that it was his hand rubbing herself wet, eliciting her euphoric sighs and gasps.

Cullen's cock beat mercilessly against his smalls. The tip poked out at the top and leaked precum. His balls were tight against him. Demanding him to take action to touch, feel, _fuck_.

_Let her_, it commanded, ordered_, let her take you! You are her's! She wants you._

But his eyes… his eyes were so _thirsty_. Seeing her beauty in a different sort that wasn't fantasy. That wasn't an illusion created in his dreams. That she was so confident in herself that she could care less about being seen as she was. Touching herself, pleasuring herself. Oh _Maker_, he had never seen such a wonderful sight.

Jerking her head toward him where he had a better view of her dazed face in rapture.

So close.

She was so close to him. He could feel each hearty exhale and inhale on his face and neck. Andraste have mercy, he wanted so much to kiss those lips. To have her very breath fill his lungs.

Lady Katja's body tightened and bowed as her pleasure reached a fever pitch. Quickly putting her left hand into her mouth to stifle her cry. Catching himself not to moan with her.

Soft flesh glowing from her orgasm as she came down from her high with a grin on her face. Sighing contently. Dragging the hand that she used to rub herself – those fingers glistened in the moon light – and settled it on her tummy. Eyes cracking – clear and content – furrowing when she tilted them to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" she said regretfully as he had a delayed reaction to his interpersonal horror.

* * *

"Her touch light and soft, pain and regret in her voice, 'I'm sorry. Did I wake you?' He needs his rest and I selfishly woke him. Ashamed and embarrassed to not control himself. Wasn't meant for him to see. She touches his shoulder – light and feather soft – damp from her mind-dream. He knows that and it aches him. Heat boils from the contact. Mouth opens but no words come.

"Mind, body, heart yearns to surrender. _Let her take you_, it calls out. The warm earth of her skin and the sweetness of cherry blossoms. Moon hair tickles his chest – thousands of tiny touches of her – like rays of the stars. Keeps him safe. Keeps him solid. The moon tresses bind him, lock him to the earth and not fading to the calls of the blue. Red eyes burn him like fire. Dark but bright at the same time. Feels himself being pulled into them like beckoning hands. A child being cradled with the sweet lullaby of a mother.

"_Did I do wrong again?,_she thinks, afraid _worried_ as she so often is with words; actions. Consequences.

"His silence cuts her. Wounds her. Though his eyes are heat, boiling, wide, dark molten bronze. Eyes for rutting. Eyes for want. Eyes for desire. His skin hot and feverish. Fever of a different sort. Words are not needed for what she sees. She understands them. Knows those eyes.

"Won't touch him like she aches to, waiting for permission. A self-promise from long ago. A promise is sacred. _Does he even want me to?_ Doesn't understand his uncertainty with her. He knows she is unlike other mages. Hard and logical. Soft and calming. Being what she must for that time. Always asking permission before she mends his physical hurts. Lets him be when he asks.

"They see the other as they are. They remember the old hurts. The scars of the heart and mind.

"Her's are like walking over a grave. Seeing it but the ghost has long since passed. She remembers the ghost on the grave but it's no longer there to torment her. Only the memory is left where the tombstone is.

"His is like a ghoul. It has long been gone, but it still walks and torments him with biting teeth and scratching claws. The calling of the blue kept the ghoul locked away. Kept him right with those chains. It festered being locked away. He hasn't killed the ghoul and put it in the grave since the blue fades away."

A stout dwarf writes furiously over the boy's explanation. Andraste's tits the suspense is killing him with these two!

It was a delightful late-night wake up from Cole, he had often sought him out when it came to her Inquisitorialness and Commander Curly. Their blossoming relationship gave him inspiration for an upcoming book. A better rendition of _Swords and Shields_. Now, if those two would hurry it up and fuck already! The audience is sorely missing the juicy details! Perhaps a new genre could emerge from the slow pacing of those two? Like 'slow smut' or 'slow burn' or 'taking to fucking long'. But whatever! The suspense will keep the audience hooked!

Though the friend in him was concerned over the hurt in their hearts. Cole's rendition of their hurts often left him more confused than answered. Going off in metaphors that he had a suspicion was from the Fade. Perhaps Chuckles new better of what he spoke of? Cole would go between himself and Chuckles when it came to those two lovebirds.

"And _then_…? What happens next Kid?"

* * *

_Did… did he like what he saw? Is that why he cannot speak?_

She could see his want both in his eyes hand his straining erection. It was the only logical conclusion as to why he couldn't speak.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she asked, "Did you like watching me?"

Seeing Cullen's face grow darker from his flush. Sporting a small grin at the silent answer.

"I suppose that's a good thing." She whispered, "Even though I didn't mean to wake you."

Even though she longed to touch him in _that way_ that allowed him to come. To relax his straining erection, to feel it's hot weight in her hand, in _her_. To have that sort of feminine power over him.

But only if he gave permission to her. Never wanting to give something that was unwanted. To force herself. Katja knows the importance of that. Knows how much that would hurt her and him.

"Tell me…" Cullen hoarsely whispered, hot and thick in the octaves, "tell me what you were thinking of. What was I doing?"

Finally he speaks!

Katja's body warmed at the thought. He want's to know? Then she'll be more than happy to tell him.

"It… was more like what I was doing. To you. That you liked what I was doing to you, I mean."

Then the doubt crept in like an unforeseen roach in the bed_. What if he doesn't like what I was imagining? What if he'll be repulsed? Unnatural even? Would he be disgusted with me?_

Clasping her hands and rubbing the knuckles in her nervous tick mannerism.

Cullen noticed her tick and furrowed his brows in a look of concern with the blatant wondering heat of his eyes.

"I was… touching you. You let me touch you. All over." Unconsciously huddling herself, it was overt and a minute detail of her composure. "I know I've touched you before like that massage I gave you and when I tickled you that one time, but these were… in a different manner."

Even in the moonlight, she could see the darkening of his face, neck, and shoulders in his flush. Did that mean he liked the idea too?

Cullen cleared his throat, "Do you… like… touching?"

Now it was her turn to flush and feel a little self-conscious, "I… I never touched someone like that. All over, I mean."

Seeing the clear display of surprise on Cullen's face, "Never?"

"No. I… " Holding her hands tighter, she didn't know how to tell him without sounding a fool or have him think ill. The only way she could think of was to speak plainly and honestly. "I was more concerned with gratification back then, than exploration. I… I never gave it much thought until recently."

Many things in this area she never gave much thought of.

He raised himself just a fraction and cupped the side of her face with his hand. The sparks in his eyes shone brighter as he nipped and pecked her lips. Having a moment of relief that he didn't find the thought of her touching him as repulsive if he was kissing her.

Sighing into the kiss, leaning her head just so for that angle. The gentle pecks and nips were unhurried as he leaned her down further with him into the bed. Unclasping her hands – with one on his shoulder and the other banding around the back of his neck. Fuck _yes_, the kissing thing.

Only… it seemed different than the other times they had kissed. It was slow, agonizingly slow; and he didn't take it further than the nips and licks and wet sliding. It felt so… tender.

Could a kiss be tender? Is that even the right word?

She felt invited. Was he… telling her to go further with him?

* * *

He felt so surprised by her admission. That she had never touched anyone intimately – the act itself yes, but beyond that, she never tried. But, she was touching herself just fine. Come to think of it, he had never seen her touch someone without a purpose, was mindful of where she placed her hands and her intention. When she would clasp her hands. When he cupped her face in the baths. He had noticed that when they would kiss that she was almost hesitant to touch him.

What was with her and the act of touching through hands?

He wanted to show her that touching is alright. Slowly over time. That these touches were just for them. Cooling his body enough to enjoy themselves. That he… didn't mind being touched. Well, as long as it was appropriate outside their rooms. He supposed. Cullen rather liked her touches.

First with their mouths.

He enjoyed their kisses so far and he knew she liked them as well.

Keeping it light and tender. Breathing her into him – her smell of pine and the mixture of the cherry blossoms in her hair. The strands surrounding him, circling him; _tickling_ his skin. He felt safe with her above him. Her lips molding to his. Their eyes on each other.

Breathing out a content sigh as he slid her lips off his. Gazing at her more fully in the moonlight. With her full, parted lips that were plump and slick from their kiss. Feeling rather than seeing the heat on her cheeks – heat that was felt on every pore of her skin that molded next to his. The rays of the moons made her hair sparkle and the deep red in her hot eyes melt. How radiant she became.

_My Moon_, he thinks in the back of his mind, _My beautiful Moon._

Using his fingertips to caress her scalp; trailing them down the side of her neck. Lighter still down her toned arm to rest on her hand that was on his shoulder.

She was watching him intently; curious as to what he was doing. Swelling a little bit of bravery on his part; focusing himself to control his more primal instincts. Make it pleasant. Make it enjoyable.

Coaxing her lithe hand to his face; having the hesitant fingers touch and prod at his jaw. Gently rubbing along her wrist – the thumb feeling the beating of her pulse on the underside. The pads of her soft fingers on his lips.

_Oh Maker…_

He could smell her. It was thick and heady and all _too tempting._ It grew and spread into his lungs and coursed like the rapids of an untamed river into his blood. Beating and pulling on him. Making him throb with want and numbing pleas. Trying unsuccessfully to keep himself still as his own calling sighed and pleaded. Wanting. Needing. Rippling tight in his belly.

With subsiding hesitation, he opened his mouth and kissed the pads of her fingers. Hearing the surprised gasp and the tremor in those delightful digits.

_Sweet Andraste… she tastes so good._

The earthy tang that was uniquely feminine and the musk that was uniquely her's. The brief, instinctual image of a tart apple with an undertone of sweet honey came to mind. Softly groaning at her flavor. Wanting more of _her_. _Thirsty_ for her.

Her eyes were aimed deadly at him – watching intently as a predator would – curious too at the sensation. A shy forefinger slid across his open tongue – short and sweet with it's touch. Cullen's tongue running across the underside. Lady Katja's breathing hitched for a moment before slowly adding her first two fingers into his mouth. His lips sealing around the first two knuckles of the digits. Groaning deep within his chest that more of her flavor gathered in him.

"Oh _fuck_… Cullen…" she breathed lowly, headily.

Then it all unceremoniously stopped as a loud knocking came at the door down from his office. Two thoughts came to his mind, both were fierce and vengeful. One shouted,_ "I'll fucking kill you!"_ and the other was _"Mercy Andraste what am I doing?!"_

By the same look on Lady Katja's face she had a similar reaction to the intrusion at the door.

"It _better_ be important." She hissed.

In a flurry of movement, she surged a werelight, put on one of his very long shirts and quickly descended down the ladder. Leaving the bewildered Commander in his bed sporting a furious erection and a mouth missing curious fingers from said lady. Hearing the flurry of the mechanical lock on his office door and the screech of the hinges.

"In-Inquisitor! I beg your pardon!" he heard the unfortunate sod say, "Sister Leliana and Ambassador Montilyet has requested Commander Cullen's presence in the War Room. Yours as well Lady Inquisitor. They say it's an emergency."

There was a heavy moment of silence before she responded curtly, "We'll be there in a few moments." Then a _thunk_ of his door that she callously closed that more than likely hit the poor messenger's face, at least, close to it.

In a silent moment, she had come back up his ladder, sullen and a bit perturbed. By that time, the Commander had gotten up and had his legs over the bed. Willing himself to calm and to die down his burgeoning erection. Thinking unpleasant thoughts to help while trying to drown out that the root of his 'problem' which was a few feet away from him and from the sounds, she was currently getting dressed. Imagining full latrines on a hot summer day, Iron Bull's body odor after hours of training after a long night of partying, and thoughts of general mayhem and destruction.

Right.

Having a solemn sense of masculine loss as his erection slowly deflated. Cullen didn't know whether he should have been grateful for the intrusion (because he was getting out of hand) or be very angry that he was having some sort of intimacy with a woman who shared some affection with him that was interrupted. But, _Maker_ he was enjoying it far too much.

Softening enough to where he could put on a pair of trousers without feeling uncomfortable.

Then the Commander in him came into focus. What if they were under attack? Highly doubting that was the case since he hadn't heard the alarms ringing or the shouts of soldiers. What of the Kingdom of Orlais or Ferelden was from Corypheus and they called on our immediate aid?

He won't know unless he and the Inquisitor spoke with the diplomat and spymaster. Best go quickly.

There was still heat to the Inquisitor's bright eyes but also the steel that she put on when it was business. The resilience and leadership to them that he loved. She had redressed in the clothes she had on the yesterday – heavily wrinkled from being on the floor. Her tussled state just was a little more enduring in the glow of her werelight.

Before they went out the door she gently grabbed his arm and had him lean down where her lips whispered into his ear, "I would like us to continue when we are able." And she walked out the door.

Leaving him to take a moment to extinguish that spark of heat to his cheeks.

Apparently it really was an emergency despite the knowing looks both diplomat and spymaster gave them as he and the Inquisitor came into the war room.

Leliana scouts and Cullen's soldiers have received confirmation that there is a red templar base. In a town called Sahrnia in the Dales. Also a written plea from Mistress Poulin that the red templars have been kidnapping people from the village. For what, none of them was certain why they were needed. What made matters worse was a sudden freeze of the river, effectively cutting the village off between the templars and the mountains. Both the soldiers and scouts had to use a narrow pass in the mountains to gain access to the village.

"It is possible that they are being used to work in the mine. What they are digging up is anyone's guess at this point." Leliana said. "The scouts report that they have briefly seen some of the missing villagers and a heavy red templar presence at the mine."

"Whatever it is, it must be important to them and Samson."

"You are right Inquisitor. They mustn't be allowed to gain strength." Cullen nodded in agreement.

"Are they using the mine as a base?"

"No Inquisitor. According to Mistress Poulin along with the scouts and soldiers, they are primarily using an abandoned elven ruin called Suledin Keep which is next to the mines as their primary base."

"Do we know their numbers?"

"It is hard to say. However, according to Harding's estimate it's close to a thousand, perhaps more."

The Commander noticed that her face turned distant and neutral. Is this the 'mathematical formula' that she spoke of that she sees when making decisions? She peered at the map as if she could see the pieces come together.

_"… it's the precision. The logical, numerical precision. An unlocking of perfection. It's like a stratagem of predictability that can be calculated and exploited. I see numbers and calculations in everything…"_

The Inquisitor blinked before looking back at them, reaching a decision, "Whatever is going on, it must be stopped and quickly. Leliana, send your swiftest scouts to help Harding gather as much information as they can about the mine and Suledin Keep. Cullen, send a small squad to help protect the villagers. Josephine, alert Empress Celene and ask for her garrison to keep an eye on the roads. No doubt that if the templars are en massing on the mine they will be heavy on the roads. With a little luck we will discover what it is they are digging up and coming out of those mines.

"Also, have both the soldiers and scouts in plain clothing too. If the red templars or Samson are unaware of us knowing of the mine, we best keep it that way until we move. Send some food and supplies as well to the villagers. They will not fall prey to them any longer. If we find the missing villagers in the mine we are to rescue as many as we can.

"Solas is familiar with elven construction of their temples. I will ask him to come into our next meeting as a consultant once we have more detailed information from the scouts and soldiers.

"Until then, we have to prepare ourselves to take out the red templar's base. Which includes seizing and capturing it."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Special thanks to Noch Provodnik, Nemi-chan, Chantelle04, and meggsiy1998 for the fav/follows. And reviews from MrsPamelaScissorhands and MidnytLove!


	27. Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 25: Bad Moon Rising

The Chant rose high as the parishioners prostrated. The Sister's singing rung through the stone and danced melancholically. The man went through the motions and affirmations without passion, but with decades of ingrained muscle memory. Of what was expected of him from his family, his city, his society. Long ago coming to the conclusion that there is no Maker. That if the Maker does exist, He has been a poor, uncaring, demanding bastard. Silent, unhearing to the hopes, prayers, and pleas of the creation that was made.

Instead, he believes that the people in it and not some invisible, silent God, shapes the world. Our choices are our own. We are guided by our will.

His actions in the Chantry are no more spectacular than when he uses the latrine. It is out of necessity and nothing more.

The Swift Stallion noticed the heavy flutters of movement of Skyhold that morning. Battle-honed instincts told him that something was going on. A calling of the battlefield hummed in his blood. His fingers _itched_ for a sword.

However, those days have long since gone by. He isn't as young or vigorous as he once was. Instead, he relied on a different sword of sorts. In his heart though, that wild stallion lusts for the familiar weight of armor, the tang of steel on his tongue, the quick steps of feet, and the necessary slaying of a life. Perhaps it is a good thing he has grown old in his years; he knows when it is wise to draw a sword, whisper a few words, or write with a quill. All those actions demanded obedience to command.

"Something draws near Morica." He said to his wife, who lay on the plush chair next to the fire.

Her smile deepened her wrinkles, "Is that the Swift Stallion speaking?"

Saying nothing in return as he continued to look out into the Frostback Mountains. Watching melancholically the thick rolling fog, cloudless blue-grey skies, and the snow clad granite peaks while smoking his tobacco – another old practice. Better to sooth twitchy nerves and calm his mood.

"Well, at any rate, did you speak with _him_ yesterday?" she asked knowingly.

Oh yes, Morica knew him enough to know his mannerisms. Despite their arms length marriage, they do maintain a fondness and respect for each other. He knew as well, that it would be unlike her to _not_ ask.

He walked those short steps to sit on the leather bound chair next to her and pour him a small glass of his mead. Something else to calm his shaking hands.

"I did Morica." He replied after a sip of the tart mead.

"What do you think of him? What does the Swift Stallion say?"

Small numerical calculations flashed in his mind before his reply, "Some of him reminds me of myself that age. Though, he is more cautious than I was."

"Like the _you_ that came home from the war?"

Shrugging sharply from that ghost from his past, "'Tis that notion that troubles me. He is older than I was back then, but he does have an air that whispers of haunts as much as self-control. Though, I am more concerned over his behavior to our daughter."

His wife's gaze turned cold, "Have you seen anything to indicate misconduct?"

_Watching intently from across the battlement, falcon eyes searching. He saw them kiss. A brief flicker of instinct telling him to stop them – his protectiveness surfacing. Keeping himself in check to just watch – to be sure – to know. Others would see as them as well. He couldn't hear what was said when the Commander flailed a fool on his rear. What he did hear, was her laughter mixed with his. Kat soon pulling him away by his hand across Skyhold and him helplessly being dragged along._

The calculations turned harsher and more brutal but arriving at the same conclusion, "None so far. She… is relaxed with him."

Morica quirked a brow, "And?"

His tight lips pursed, "He turns into a _boy_ around her."

A thrilling laugher echoed in the guest room from his wife, "Oh! One of _those_ types of men. The ones that can lead with stone faces, but put them near a strong, beautiful woman and they turn into little boys, um? Well, all things considered, that is the least of our worries then. A man with thick skin and a gentle heart is what she needs."

"He wasn't what I was expecting."

"Neither was I Roderick, but it is out of our hands. At least he seems decent to her. No man in Thedas would be perfect as a match. You nor I want to go down that road, it would be an impossible task. Besides that, we are too old to run after them. She…" her throat tightened at the missed years of being a mother to her.

Just like all those missed years of him being a father to her. Her papa. Even when he knew what she was at age four, but he kept her just a little longer to hold the heartache at bay. The silence he bought from those close.

"She has chosen her own path," he finished for her. "Kat is strong. She knows how to stand."

"I know Roderick… I know." Morica said sadly, eloquently. Knowing the price their daughter had to pay to learn early in her life that harsh lesson.

For a few moments, they were silent in contemplation, as was a common occurrence due to their age. Calmly watching the static fire that occasionally sparked from the wood.

"Am I to guess you have done your own investigation Morica?"

She smiled and nodded, "The Rutherfords died out as a noble house two ages ago. Though, before the fifth Blight, they maintained a generous favoritism with the fishing market in Honnleath. Losing their nobility status did nothing to stop them from being prosperous. A rather modest family in their attitude about their business."

"Really? I'm surprised, but not as much after talking to the Commander. He sees it as Kat's army and not his."

She nodded like that statement sounded about right, "Unfortunately, after the Blight, it devastated their business and the Rutherfords relocated to South Reach. They have done nothing but rebuild there. If you ask me Roderick they are better off than before the Blight.

"His eldest sister Mia is the main trade negotiator between South Reach's Arling and the Crown. Lisa owns two salons in South Reach and another two in Amaranthine. His brother, Jonathan, owns two market places – rather large ones I should say. One is in South Reach and another in Lothering. They do have a small fishing enterprise along the Drakon River, but that one is a smaller scale than the one they had in Honnleath.

"His mother, Susanna, died three years ago from the cough and his father, Brian, is being tended to by servants at their family residency. Severe arthritis and gout I am told."

"I suppose when many businesses are destroyed by a plague, it would give one the opportunity to take over," he remarked cynically. "What of other family members?"

"He does have several cousins and a few aunts and uncles scattered about Ferelden, but other than that, no. The Rutherfords are a small, resourceful family."

"I'm surprised that despite their wealth and resources that they haven't reinstated their nobility status."

"Well, Roderick they were only a minor house, so when their status was lowered, it didn't hinder them. All it did was keep them from marrying with the other nobles. It seems as though they are content with where they are. Must be a Ferelden attribute."

A knock came at the door of the guest suite, echoing on the stone. Without looking the man shouted, "Enter."

He partially didn't expect to see his daughter coming in. After the first couple of times to see if they could meet again, he had resided to let her come to him when available. He knew the duty of a station and the time consumption it details. Even when it gave him a painful prick to his heart when she couldn't come.

Kat was tall and proud despite her short stature from her mother. Moon hair long and thick in a loose braid. Her clothing was of a simple design of a tunic, vest, leather trousers, and slip shoes.

"Kat, good morn to you!" he said a little too enthusiastically. Well, with more enthusiasm than was normal for him.

A small twitch of a smile came from Morica as she too said her good morns.

"And… you too, mama, papa. I… um… apologize, I've been busy since you both came –"

Roderick quickly waved his hand to dismiss her apology, "It is unnecessary Kat; we know the importance of your station if you get pulled away. You are here now and that is what's important. Come, sit."

Watching his daughter take calculated steps to the chair opposite of him and Morica. Her body language spoke tension. At them or something else? Perhaps both. It must have something to do with the battle-urge he was feeling within Skyhold this morning.

"Have you… um, the both of you been comfortable in Skyhold?" she asked.

"Oh yes Katja, the lady Ambassador has been very accommodating." His wife replied.

"Good. That is… good. When do you plan on returning to Ostwick?"

The question shocked him a little – just a small slash on the heart, "Are you eager to be rid of us so soon?" trying to be sarcastic, but he realized he made an egregious error when she turned highly uncomfortable.

"No! No. It's just… we will be very busy here within the upcoming days, perhaps weeks. I am unsure if I will be able to commit to any, um… bonding? Talking? To you both."

Internally sighing reliefly that she didn't take offense to his statement, "I noticed a change in Skyhold's energy this morning. Has something happened?"

"Yes. I cannot say though. The less that know the better."

Both he and his wife nodded in understanding, "If you need anything, all you need to do is ask." Morica said.

Kat nodded.

"So, to answer your question. It will be by the beginning of next week we depart back to Ostwick. And… since our time is short… I… have something for you my Kat. We both do."

Ringing in a servant and having her bring the box and book to the low table in front of them.

He gave the book to Katja first. It was a small, thick book that was clearly very old and well read. The binding seam was heavily creased and the corners of the hard cover were worn. Pressing into the leather cover was written _The Wind-Maiden and the Mariner_.

The Stallion watched his daughters face soften as her lithe fingers ghosted along the letters on the cover. A faint smile on his daughter's lips.

"Thank you papa, mama."

"We thought… you would like to have it returned." His wife said.

Then her attention turned to the box on the low table.

It was a dark oak color with their family crest embossed in gold. The size of a large tome and thicker than a thesaurus compendium. Unlocking the gold locks with a small key, he opened the box to reveal a complete chess set. The bottom half held the board which was made of hard, dark oak, the tiles out of white and black marble, and little gold facets of horses around the boarder. Below the board held the little statuettes made out of marble and gold leaf. Locked securely in their individual depressions.

"Do you remember?" he asked.

Not saying anything, Katja carefully put down her book and prepared the board. Both father and daughter locked eyes and smiled.

* * *

_For his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles waved_

_The foolhardy Avvar-pup gone bye._

_With the dancing She-Wind_

_As his Maiden upon his voyage. _

_The ghosts of Mother-Sky_

_And Father-Earth bade him well,_

_For in his heart a world goes_

_Beyond their long arms._

_He sets off_

_In the blue She-Water._

_Her cool, hair of blue_

_Wraps his boat and carries him away. _

_Far to strange lands_

_And stranger folk. _

_With gentle beasts_

_And raving monsters._

_He does not fear them._

_Fear ices the heart,_

_Cowers the self in the dank of caves._

_Holding his father's axe high_

_He will conquer the world_

_Remembering his father's words_

_"There is no rock that does not break."_

Reading the first page of _The Sea-Maiden and the Mariner_. It was just as she remembered, even the smell of the old pages.

_"Papa, I wanna read to you tonight."_

_"Do you my Kat?"_

In the Order's haste to take her away, she didn't have the chance to grab her favorite book. Upset for a week over having her beloved tale left behind. Now, it was within her company once more. She remembered how proud papa was when she could read the book by herself when she was five. Even more so, when she could recite the book without missing a word.

Holding the book close to her let her forget for a moment the trials of the day. They would have to prepare to lay siege and take Suledin Keep. Even in the beginning stages Skyhold was bustling with activity. Wood had to be ordered, the smiths working overtime for armor repair and even making something as simple as nails, favors needed to be asked, and a having a steady stream of supplies once they march. On top of her normal duties as Inquisitor.

Damn she was hyped up with nerves. She'd never led a march or siege before. If something went wrong, it was on her. Every Inquisition member's life was on her.

Death is final.

It was illogical she knew. She couldn't protect every life of the Inquisition or abroad. They know the risks when they join as well as the rewards. All she could do is provide them with ways to defend themselves and that was on her advisors to oversee. She was still responsible for them though.

Thinking about all of that wasn't helping her in the sleep department. It was late at night, probably past midnight and she had an early day tomorrow – today – she means. Also it was too late to take a sleeping drought without feeling like she was dragging her feet in the morning. Well, there was one solution that would calm her down to help her sleep. Luckily, she was by herself in her own quarters and she wouldn't disturb him.

Setting her book on the nightstand and disrobing, while doing so she could feel the prickles of her desire bubble in her blood. Despite her weariness, she wanted something a little more than clitoral stimulation. Smiling, she surged her mana and in a similar fashion when she would summon her ethereal blades, she well… made an ethereal cock come into existence in the palm of her hand. Shaping it into _his_ from her picture memory. Her clitoris throbbed in excitement and wetness pooled out from her. Oh _damn_ it's been too long since she did this to herself.

Hastily grabbing one of the large, very firm pillows, she straddled it, placing the glowing blue cock in the middle. Pushing out little ropes from the base to secure it to the pillow. Rubbing her clitoris to soften herself – to make her wet. Catching her breath, she descended down, the tip of the blunt head swirled around her entrance, just barely pressing in. Placing both her hands on the headrest of the bed to steady her.

Her wet cunt widening to accommodate the blunt head of the cock. Whimpering and holding onto the headrest for dear life. The nerves in her body was picking up every sensation. Thighs trembling as she slowly descended down until she completely impaled herself.

"Katja… you feel so good." Cullen huskily groaned. His hands – those soft, callused hands – rested on her hips. The tips pulsing, digging, into her skin.

"You too." She replied breathlessly.

And it was so good. The way she was impossibly stretched and filled with him; along with the pulsing heat coursing in her cunt. Her body drumming in tune to the ancient beat. Lifting herself and lowering – getting a fill of his cock. Letting his moans vibrate into her and tease her clit. His hands – oh thank you! – his hands were touching her – caressing her. From her swaying abs, tense thighs, and cupping her breasts. Gasping when he pinched her sensitive nipples. His hands… oh his _hands_!

Fucking his cock faster – _harder_!

All while his hands caressed her, praising her. His molten bronze eyes drinking from her. Watching as she fucked him. Acutely aware of her bouncing breasts, prickles of sweat on her forehead, and each drip that came out of her quim.

"Take it. Take all of me!" His words spurring her. Oh _yes_ she wanted all of him!

His hard abs arched to meet her. His chest impossibly trying to gather air into his lungs. Cullen's well-groomed hair was now disheveled – curling oh so wonderfully. Toes clenching as a familiar knot tightened in her tummy. Her whimpers and cries adding to the slick, wetness from her riding.

His delicious hands made their way down her body again as a rough thumb made tight circles –

"Oh! _Fuck_!"

Clenching her thighs around him while internally pulling on him, causing him to loudly growl. She's close, so close.

Looking at his flushed, handsome face. While he was looking at her in what must be love. At the least blissful pleasure. Watching the little pebbles of sweat gather at the boarder of his hair and forehead. His sharp mouth grinned at her, pulling on that delicious scar.

That it was his face looking at her. His hands touching her.

Howling as she came.

* * *

By the end of the week, preparations were complete and they had more solid intel from the scouts and soldiers. For one final war room meeting with her advisors and her companions before they set out.

Katja, Dorian, Cole, and Bull will lead the first tactical charge. Their small group will set a foot in the town of Sahrnia before infiltrating their closest camps while the enemy is unaware of the Inquisitions presence. Along with a small team of 30 highly-trained soldiers to hold those camps.

While that happens, a battalion will cut off the trade roads out of the mines and Keep to isolate them. Cullen will be in charge of that group. Along with Cassandra, Vivienne, and Varric to help. One that is done, they are to march as a second wave.

The third wave will come in as a support along with the siege equipment that would probably be needed. Blackwall, Solas, and Sera will help lead them and Cullen's second, Knight-Captain Rylen, will be in charge.

After much debate, they agreed to have her dragon accompany the third wave. Minstrel will hang back hidden in the mountains unless she was summoned by Katja if needed. Just encase something was hidden within the Keep that they are unprepared for.

Their main focus will be the Keep since the majority of the red templars are stationed there. However, they will pick off the easier target of the mine first. A detailed map was provided by Mistress Poulin of the mine before the red templars occupied it. Once the templars have been dealt with and hopefully rescue any remaining townsfolk, all their efforts will go into the Keep itself.

According to Solas, elven temples typically have two pathways to the inner sanctum. One was for the faithful to do their "labors", and the other was for the priests themselves, hidden in the walls out of the eyes of the faithful. It would be unlikely the templars know of the hidden pathway since they would need to perform a labor at the doorway to activate it. Which would involve magic to activate it.

"If I remember correctly, for this particular labor, it is a simple task of lighting a veilfire torch. It would more than likely be close to the main entrance of the Keep. The pathway itself is small and narrow, not the sort for any heavy combat."

So, it would be up to her and the other three companions to deal with whatever is on the other side. Well, she's faced worse. Nothing like dashing headlong into danger.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to arletteseymour, Daeris1225, kjarvis219, Erulastiel Nostariel, and Missmaggiet for the fav/follows! And the review from MidnytLove!

_The Sea-Maiden and the Mariner_ is similar in this world's stories of _Beowulf_ and _the Odyssey_. Basically an Avvar epic poem.

Okay, I'm taking a two week break from the story. But no worries! I already have the next chapter finished, (at the least almost) so that will update on time. The reason why is that I have the new DLCs for DA:I and I barely played them. You can blame work and life for my lack of playing. Not only that, but I have some artwork I wanna finish up and this story is sucking up my time when I'm at home. And I just heard about the new Trespasser DLC. (ughf‼) The next chapter is an "Intermission" chapter before our posse heads out to Suledin Keep. Which features a teenage Cully‼ Had way too much fun writing that.


	28. Intermission 2

Intermission 2: Blue Ocean Floor

_... it was folly to believe that Dryden's plot to overthrow King Arland would avoid his ears. Despite being mad, he was sensible enough to send Ferelden soldiers to Soldier's Keep. Thus, the beginnings of a long, bloody battle between the Warden's who supported Dryden and the Mad King Arland's forces in 7:5 Storm ..._

Soft hands ruffled through the young recruit's wild curls, distracting him from his studies.

"Never have I seen a recruit so engrossed his history lessons. Most would beg to have latrine duty."

Said recruit jumped out of his chair and gave a deep, apologetic bow when he realized who it was, "Sister Yvette!"

The Sister sported an easy grin, "At ease, young Rutherford. I heard that many books from the library was suddenly loaned to a particular initiate, and it looks like a second library is beginning to form on your bunk."

"They are for research Sister." He quickly explained.

Said Sister let out a hardy chuckle that put the recruit a little at ease. Surely he didn't go overboard again with his loans? He knew he wasn't supposed to loan out every book, but… he needed to be thorough for the report! Well, ah, he didn't get _every_ book… just a few. That "few" that almost spilled from his skinny arms from the library to his bunk.

"I suppose the other recruits can't complain. They needn't go far for a book they need if it's only a few bunks away. At least you didn't take the _whole_ collection this time."

The young recruit tried to stifle his blush from being called out.

_Maker's Breath what sort of future templar are you! Blushing like … like … something that shouldn't be blushing! In front of the instructing Sister too!_

"Which reminds me Initiate Rutherford, isn't your first yearly coming?"

"Yes Sister Yvette, in eight days' time."

He sighed, "A year already? May the Maker give you more years to come. You've done well your first year."

"Thank you Sister."

"And isn't the evening drills about to start?"

The young recruit's face paled.

"I suggest you get going along. Have a good evening."

Sprinting and leaping into the training yard. He could have sworn a dust trail was kicked up with his speed. Spurting out hasty "Excuse me!" to any unfortunate soul who happened to be in his way. Luckily the halls were mostly empty; other initiates and apprentices alike in their final class for the day. It was going well until he rounded a corner and collided with someone going equally as fast. All he registered was a flurry of dark hair and a scattering of parchment before he fell to the floor with said person.

The next second he realized who he banged into.

"S-Solona! Maker's Breath I'm sorry!" A furious blush brightened his cheeks without his consent.

"Never mind that! Help me get my notes!" She rushed out while doubled over, reaching for the nearest papers and stuffing them into her leather fold.

Without thinking, he helped gather her papers with shaky hands, muttering to himself of how late he was going to be.

"I'm running late too you bronto-head! You could have watched where you were going!" She snapped at him.

Too embarrassed to say anything, but continued to grumble lowly. Once the last parchment was inside the leather fold, she tucked it to her chest and ran off.

"Thank you Cullen!" Solona shouted as she ran in the opposite direction. Just as he too, ran off.

He had to do an extra five laps in the yard for being late. Compounded with the fact that he had night duty. Muscles aching from the exertion. It didn't stop his friends later from teasing him.

"Alright Ser Tight-Breeches, what got you so late?" Markus asked him.

Markus was a recruit two years his senior. They instantly became friends once he joined at day one at Kinloch Hold. Having an easy-going attitude with a more disciplined outlook with his education. Markus was one of the many initiates that's been here since he was a little boy at the age of four. In a way, he reminded Cullen of his older brother. Many of the children recruits looked up to him considering he's the oldest of them.

"I was doing the research paper Sister Everine instructed us to do." He explained.

His two friends groaned.

"You're already starting it? It's not due until next month." Randy commented.

Now his other friend Randy, or Rans, was more of a "functional magpie". Often putting off his education until it must be completed; much preferring socializing with his fellow recruits. He wasn't a lout when it came to energy in the physical aspects and he was very intelligent when he focused on a subject.

"You know him Rans." Markus got a sadistic grin on his face, "It couldn't be that you ran into Solona did you?"

_Maker's Breath! How did he know about that?!_

"Ha! Knew it. You're blushing."

"Am not! She and I were running late and we, ah, collided into each other."

"'Collided' eh?" Rans shooting him a wicked smirk.

"Not of that sort you magpie!" Cullen stated defensively.

"I know; it's just funny to see you blush like that whenever she's mentioned."

"I do not!"

"Hey, no reason to be defensive Cullen. Some of those mages are easy on the eyes."

Both he and Markus gave him queer looks.

Rans sighed dejectfully, "Yes, yes we 'aren't supposed to interact with the mages' and 'keep your distance' sort of thing. I was just sayin'. Makes it more bearable during the night-shift."

"And speaking of night shift – " Markus gave him a knowing look.

"Right." Cullen said exasperatingly and hunching his shoulders, "I'll see you guys in the morn."

"See ya later Cullen" they said as he walked away.

His patrol for the night was near the mage quarters. Remembering the first time he had night duty. He almost fell asleep within the first hours, but was hyped up thinking that something was going to happen. So far, nothing has. Many of the recruits disliked the routine simply for the lack of action. He, however, liked the quiet. Growing up in a very loud and rambunctious household made him appreciate the moments of solace and peace. Still, it was his duty to respond if any catastrophe happened. Keeping his luck tight in his pocket.

The night was getting colder, as typical this time of year in Ferelden. Vaguely hearing the waves from Lake Calenhad. The sky clear as the two moons glowed.

Thinking back from earlier when he collided with Solona. His throat tightening and feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

She knew his name.

He'd never really had a conversation with her. He wasn't supposed to have much interaction with them and he turned into a puddle of nerves when she _looked_ him. But, since he first saw her he thought she was exceedingly pretty. Far prettier than any girl he's _ever_ seen. Her dark as midnight hair, bright-blue eyes, and pink lips. Cullen didn't know that a mage could be pretty. Come to think of it, he'd never seen mages up close until he joined. Surprised at that moment when he came that they looked like people despite their ability with magic.

Easily spotting her whenever he was walking the halls. Overhearing conversations she would have with her friends. The outgoing personality and easy smiles. Each time she would turn her head to look at him he wanted to melt into the towers masonry. Then, his body and mind would react that was contradictory to his will! They were entirely inappropriate! What would the Sisters or his parents say if they found out his feelings? Reciting the Chant to keep those stray thoughts away. Better yet, Sister Patricia's giant mole on her nose.

_You're going to be the best templar. Templars and mages aren't supposed to be together. So stop having thoughts about her!_

Senses sharpening when he heard footsteps coming from the mages' quarters.

Turning his head to see who would be up past curfew. The shimmering light from the torches gave her away. He recognized her dark hair anywhere.

"S-Solona! What are you, um, doing past curfew?"

Even in the dim light of the torches, he could still see her bright blue eyes. Eyes that had the upmost seriousness when they looked at him. Swallowing the lump in his throat. Reciting the Chant to keep him focused.

"I came to apologize. For running into you." Putting her hands on her hips and shuffling her feet.

Practically feeling the red on his cheeks and any sort of focus he had on reciting the Chant was instantly forgotten.

_She's talking to me!_

"No! It should be me. I was, ah, running late and should have paid closer attention."

"Well… me too. I hope you didn't get into too much trouble."

"Yes. I mean no! I did get into trouble but it was just a small reprimand. Y-you didn't get into trouble did you?"

_Maker's Breath… Maker's Breath! You bumbling fool!_

"Same here. Small reprimand. So, um, that's all I wanted to say. Good night Cullen."

"You, um, you too Solona. Pleasant dreams."

She gave him a queer look and it was that moment the poor choice in his words. She smiled regardless and walked away back to her room.

_You stupid fool! You don't tell a mage 'pleasant dreams'! You know what their dreams are made of! Demons tempting them into possession; that's what their dreams consist of._

At that moment, he didn't know whether to pity them or have respect for them that they can sleep despite what awaits them when they close their eyes. Perhaps both. He didn't know what he would do if when he slept nightmares or demons could get him. Night after night. He supposed that it takes a certain amount of bravery to face them and wake up unharmed.

_That's why we watch them. When they can no longer take the dreams._

The rest of his shift went by smoothly as his replacement came just after the height of the Satina moon.

As he was walking past the Knight-Commander's office he heard voices coming from inside. He knew he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help but to overhear. Recognizing the Knight-Commander, Knight-Captain, and First Enchanter's voices.

"Alright Greagoir, what's important enough to shake us from bed this early?" asked First Enchanter Irving.

"A bird from King Maric just came in."

"King Maric? Has something happened in Denerim?" Asked Knight-Captain in a surprised fashion.

"In a matter of speaking, a group of ten assassins came during his monthly court sessions with the High and Low Freemen."

"Obviously the assassins were unsuccessful if he is sending us a bird." Remarked the Knight-Captain.

"Your right Nicolas, but it seems that an apostate mage was the reason that the assassins were unsuccessful and His Majesty still lives."

"You cannot be serious Knight-Commander. His Majesty is certain?"

"Oh yes. He saw her with his own eyes along with his personal guard."

"Then I am to guess he wishes the templars to apprehend the apostate?"

"Not exactly Nicolas. He asks us to apprehend her yes, but to bring her directly to Denerim first."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious Knight-Captain?" said the First Enchanter, "Wouldn't you want to thank the person who saved your life?"

"Point taken," he agreed. "So, what are we looking for? You've mentioned that the apostate is a woman."

He heard the Knight-Commander chuckle, "Not a woman – a girl, a child."

Cullen heard a moment of silence.

"From his report, the girl is between the ages of eight to eleven. He even brought us a sketch of the girl. She also is traveling westward with two mabari companions."

"You're saying this apostate child along with her mabari companions managed to eliminate ten armed assassins?"

"Not only that, but King Maric states that when they investigated the assassin's bodies, there were several vials of lyrium on their persons. So, he's asking for our records of lyrium contacts and stores. A representative will be here in a few days with more information on the apostate and to gather the copies of our lyrium records.

"His Majesty has sent birds to our other chapters and, they too, are searching for the apostate and have the same request as we have."

Cullen froze as he heard armored footsteps behind him in the distance. Quickly scampering off before he was caught and jumping into his bed. Wincing when he felt the hard covers of all the books he had laid out hours prior. Sighing in relief that he wasn't caught; he'd already made a show-off of himself already. At least he hoped he wasn't spotted eavesdropping on his superior's conversation.

_Blessed Andraste… an apostate is on the loose! One who saved King Maric from assassins!_

He was both awed and fearful. If his fellow templars caught the apostate (which he had high confidence they would) then she would come here to Kinloch Hold. More than likely anyway. He'd most certainly be grateful that someone foiled an assassination plot on him. Even if it was an apostate mage. Not only that but the girl had two mabari companions! A little jealous of that fact.

Being a native-born Ferelden instilled the love of the breed. He'd always wanted one as a companion. That was the thing with the breed; they only imprinted on those whom they chosen as companions. He knew his family was well off to where they _could_ have a mabari. However, few mabaris were ever used outside the Ferelden military. Along with the fact, there was no functional need for one in his family's household. Even if they could have one, there was no guarantee that the dog would imprint on anyone in his family.

And the apostate girl had _two_ mabaris.

He wasn't stupid in the regard that apostates were dangerous. That's what the Sisters and his fellow templars said. They carry the chance of being blood mages or a demon in the flesh since no one supervised them.

When the girl did come here, he was sure that Solona would want to be a friend to her. It sounds like something she would do, especially to a newcomer. He didn't think there was anyone who disliked Solona. Along with the girl saving King Maric from assassins would defiantly land the girl in gentle graces with the other mages, even the templars.

Cullen didn't forget that it was his duty to watch over her too.

The fact that she was an apostate would mean keeping a closer eye on her than the other apprentices. He didn't know the exact protocol when dealing with apostates that came into the Circle, but he was sure that the higher-ranking templars would know. Especially the First Enchanter, Knight-Captain, and the Knight-Commander – all three were old enough to have had experience with apostates surely.

Sleep evaded the young recruit, impossibly curious about the apostate. Along with thinking about his encounter with Solona.

That strange pull tugging within his trousers.

Bits of shame bubbled within his chest. Pressing within his mind as hard as possible the Chant. He wasn't supposed to touch himself like the Sisters warned.

Soon regretting not calming himself down to where he could get a few hours of sleep as soon as morning drills started. Barely focusing his eyes during his classes. Any other thought about the apostate evaded his mind until Markus said something about it during their afternoon meal.

"There is apparently an apostate on the loose in Ferelden."

Rans looked at him in a shocked expression, "Details Markus!"

From there Markus relayed what he knew. Most of it was what Cullen already knew from his accidental eavesdropping.

"Well, you're gonna be jealous Rans, Knight-Captain Nicolas has asked that I come along with the scouting party."

"How in Andraste's ass did you manage to do that?!"

"Because I'm the oldest and been here the longest of all the recruits that's why! My eighteenth nameday is in two years time."

"_Phsst!_ Lucky you. _You_ get to see this mysterious apostate first hand while me and Ser Tight-Breeches are stuck here."

"Speaking of which, you're being quiet over there Cullen."

"Oh! It's nothing. Did Knight-Captain say why he wants the apostate to go to Denerim to see King Maric?"

"No. He just stated that it's part of the Crown's request. I really hope I get to see this apostate, it would mean that I get to see His Majesty too."

"Well, you be careful Markus," said Cullen, "this is an apostate we are talking about here."

"Yes I know. The only thing about it is that he's given me strict orders not to engage the apostate and I am to observe only."

"That stinks. Makes sense though since we ain't got any lyrium in us. But, how bad can it be? This is a kid apostate. Prolly just coming into her magic and ran away from home." Remarked Rans nonchalantly.

Cullen wanted to knock him on the head, "That's just it Rans! The girl apostate prolly _doesn't_ know how to control her magic. She could accidently hurt someone. Or worse, the girl is possessed."

"Cullen's right Rans. The best thing for her would to bring her into the Circle. To better protect her and other people."

Raising his hands in submission, "I know! I was just sayin'."

"Either way, you be careful Markus. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow at dawn."

It didn't take long after that the whole complex was buzzing with the gossip about the apostate girl saving King Maric. Of course with gossip there will be the outlandish claims. He didn't think that particular child would be related to nobility. As far as he was aware of he's heard of no reports of "noble" runaway mages. The Sisters didn't find the high level of gossip funny and gave us after-class work than what they usually do and the Knight-Corporal had more physical exercises to "keep our yaps shut".

That morn he wished Markus luck with his training exercise with the other templars. For the most part after that the gossip subsided as the days went by. Then, it went into high gear again as more news came that the apostate child went back to His Majesty. She wasn't caught, just went to see him on her own. He didn't believe that his fellow templars didn't have something to do with her seeing the King. Seems ludicrous that a child could on her own.

Then…

A week later, all the recruits were summoned early in the morning in the auditorium. The templars and especially the Knight-Commander looked grim. All the Sisters and the Reverend Mother were gathered had the same uneasy, pale look to them.

For the rest of the day was spent in solemn shock. He didn't know whether to be angry or cry.

The templars and Markus… were dead.

* * *

"I want a full report Irvin. What in the Maker's name happened to those templars. Those five templars were some of the best we had and Markus showed the most promise of the Initiates." The Knight-Commander hissed out angrily. It was a simple retrieval of the apostate, a _child_ no less!

Three people stood at attention to the Knight-Commander. Grand Enchanter Irvin, a mage named Joanna, and Knight-Lieutenant Richard.

"I will let the Knight-Lieutenant speak first. He's one of the expert trackers from one of the chapters in South Reach and he was the one who tracked your brothers. He'll paint the scene better than I."

All eyes turned to the robust templar. Without missing a beat he began his story, "We found the bodies of the five templars and the Initiate on the edge of the Bracillian Forest, just a few miles out from Dragon's Peak. There was signs of a heavy struggle from four of the templars and the apostate along with her two mabari companions. The Initiate and one other templar hung back a ways.

"Something happened in the middle of this struggle that the Initiate came into the fray. After the struggle only the apostate child survived, I observed her footsteps walking away from the scene. And only her steps, her mabari companions perished. I tracked her as far as possible, but about a mile out her steps… vanished."

The Knight-Commander gave him an impatient look, "What do you mean they 'vanished'?"

"Exactly my thinking when I realize that. I naturally casted over the steps to see if any magic was at play – there was none Ser. I searched the area for two days and found no other trace of the girl. If there was any magic at play, I couldn't sense it. None of the other templars could either Ser."

The Knight-Commander was shocked as much as angry at the news that the apostate escaped into thin air. What in the Maker's name was going on?! What sort of apostate was that child?

"Did someone examine the bodies?" he asked as calmly despite his angry shock.

"Joanna did Greagoir." Irvin pointed to the middle-aged mage woman, "She is a mage from the Circle in Denerim who examined the bodies."

The impatient mage politely nodded before speaking, "On my first examination at the scene, the bodies of the templars were heavily burned. Almost unrecognizable and transporting them into my field tent was a challenge. They were so burned that their bones were weak. The initiate was different, he suffered several cuts and stab wounds across his torso and his groin area. In addition, there was a deep slice to his throat, which I'm guessing by the coagulation, was the cause of death. What I thought was strange was the cuts and stabs to his torso wasn't made by a blade. Not a normal steel one at any rate. The armor was melted slightly at the entry points and the flesh was burned. I've only seen that sort with Knight-Enchanters when they use ethereal blades."

"Are you saying that this child has the ability of a Knight-Enchanter?"

"It makes sense Greagoir," Irvin said, "King Maric stated that the child used a 'piece of light' to cut one of the assassins."

"If that is the case, then why would she burn the templars? Our abilities would have negated her magic, including summoning an ethereal blade."

"I thought the same Knight-Commander," remarked Joanna. "It should have been easy on the templars to capture her. After running the usual tests at the field camp, I have a theory as to why." Rummaging quickly into her field bag and producing six small vials and placed them on the Knight-Commander's desk. "This is the standard blood tests when we examine them. All of these are from the templars and the initiate. Tell me, do you see any difference?"

The Knight-Commander scrunched his face, "No. Is that a trick question?"

"That should be disconcerting. Normally when I examine a templar's blood they have a dark blue hue and a faint glow; due to the lyrium intake. A normal person's – like the initiate – who have no lyrium in their blood is a pink color. They are _all_ pink."

"There must be some mistake –"

"I thought so too. I ran the same tests three times on different tissues on the templar's bodies and they _all_ were pink. No lyrium. Not even a hint."

"Could it be because they were burned?"

"Even then, there would have been a change in the vials. There is only one way that I know that could have happened. There is no easy way of saying this, but I will put it bluntly. She set the lyrium in the templar's bodies on fire. She burned them alive."

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you Rae and MidnytLove for the reviews. And a special wave to Felandris09. A good (pervy) buddy of mine on Tumblr. Her name is cullenstairshenanigans on Tumblr. Check her shit out!


	29. Pushit

Chapter 27: Pushit

The cool, frosty air of the Frostbacks churned outside the Commander's tent. Dark save the faint glow of the moon. Soldier instincts on alert. They were nearing the town of Sahrnia and with it the risk of exposure. Closing his eyes and praying that the Inquisitor got a healthy night sleep, tomorrow they move on the quarry and Suliden Keep. Daring not to send a bird incase of interception.

On most of her missions he rarely worried over her, she was mostly doing grunt work save the closing of the rifts. Strong, powerful and able to take care of herself. He worried over her more when it came from the diplomatic end than fighting. This was different though, this was the first siege she had planned. Granted it was a relative small siege.

The plan was sound, all that was left was the execution.

"I've never done this before Cullen." She said the last night before their two camps parted in the Frostbacks.

She was afraid. Of failure or general fuck ups.

"The sooner this is over the better." Katja huffed out.

Then the freighting over supplies and the readiness of the healers to the soldiers. He was able to relax her a bit, but by now she's back at it at the separate camp. Cullen couldn't blame her. He remembered back as a templar the first time he conducted an operation with various parties and how squirrelly he was.

"If the soldiers and healers see you like this Inquisitor, they are more likely to be more nervous than you are. If they are nervous, they are more likely to make a mistake. Don't do that to them."

That was the only advice he could give her. And with luck she is following through.

Pulling out his own luck from his pocket. Feeling out the weathered shape of Andraste's serene face on the coin in the cold dark. However, it wasn't Andraste's face he felt on the coin. It was a thoughtful oval face, salacious red eyes, dreamy spider silk hair, and a knowing smile. Sending a silent prayer for a swift victory tomorrow before putting it back into his pocket. A safe little reminder that kept him grounded, focused even.

An itch quacked under his skin the closer he got to Sahrnia. Cullen could feel the pull of lyrium. He wasn't a fool. He read the reports about the red lyrium dotting the snow-clad area. Whether it was the ache in his chest, twitch of nerves, or the creep on the back of his neck that caused a twisting knot in his gut and mind. Both drawn and repulsed. A ravenous predator stalking just on the outskirts of safety around a warm fire – gnashing teeth mad with hunger and desire.

_Deep breaths Commander… deep breaths._

At dawn his small set of soldiers along with Lady Katja's companions quietly fell into position. He couldn't plan it better himself. The rising sun was behind them and they had the high ground over the quarry. Archers in place on the rock while he and the footmen on the low ground.

He saw them, just like at Haven. A grim reminder of his alternative fate. Anger, pity, sympathy boiled in his breast at seeing his former comrades in such a state.

_They are gone._

With that reality, he led the charge.

* * *

Twisting the contorted head with hard yank and one final stab into another body. Then it was done. The final camp was secure – the juncture between the mine and the Keep.

Wiping the crystallized blood off her blades before sheathing them. Once it was determined that the red templars in the camp were down, a messenger came to her, Cullen and his party will be joining up shortly. Their camps aligning against the Keep.

Letting out a worried breath, good, all is going to plan. It had taken a few short hours at this point, the sun only a quarter way for it's full rotation. Their surprise attack was going smoothly. The red templars were still excellent fighters and hard to take down (especially that Behemoth one) despite the surprise.

Their party taking a small reprieve for the other half of their troops to arrive. Maker-damn she couldn't wait for it to be over with. The reports weren't lying about the mining of the red lyrium. Being so close to so much did nothing for her mood. With regular lyrium it wasn't so bad, but this stuff… _fuck_. It felt like claws on her back and her eyeballs were burning out of her skull. Having similar reactions to demons, but this was worse with so much in close proximity. Fighting the instinct to burn it – the stink, the corruption.

Once the operation was finished, destroying the veins must be a priority. If anything to stop the needles in her mind to stop digging in further.

Then the whole desire demon in control of the red lyrium operation here.

Fuck.

Well, it's nothing she's is not familiar with. In a dark, ironic sense the templars were to fight demons, now their opposites are taking orders from one. _Pah_…

Bull's Ben-Hassreth eye watched her. She was stupid to facial reads, but she knew when she was being watched. He made a point to sit with her around a fire while they were waiting for Cullen's forces to arrive. They were alone save Dorian and Cole. Well, as alone as they can be in enemy territory with ten other soldiers resting scattered about.

"You doin' alright their boss?" he asked while poking her shoulder with his elbow.

Crooking her brow and smiling uneasily, "Just nerves," she said evasively.

Cole's bright blues let her know that he knew, "The red hurts. Claws on the skin." He said simply.

Katja rolled her eyes as her other two compatriots gave her degrees of worried looks. She thinks.

"Doesn't matter. I'll live."

Then, all hell broke loose as something hit her neck as she instantly collapsed into black.

* * *

The Commander heard more than saw the commotion. Dread in his gut. His messenger routed back saying that the juncture camp was taken but why all the battle calls? Their voices echoed in the high crags of the quarry and rocky terrain.

Something happened.

"Double time soldiers!" he shouted as they ran to the juncture camp.

A small force of red templars were fighting their established camp. The same one that Lady Katja was in. During the combat, his bronze eyes searched for her familiar features in the throng.

He didn't see her or feel her pull.

The last of the enemy forces were put down and he quickly gathered information from her companions.

They had taken her to the Keep.

* * *

Caked eyes pulled open, the light nearly blinding her, ears ringing. Feeling a pressure on her wrists and ankles – the heavy sting. Cold biting her flesh. Rolling her head, forcing herself to focus.

Where was she?

Eyes focusing more to the light – magical torches burning brightly. She was in a cell. Hands and ankles bound. Heart racing as the realization hit her like a punch to the chest.

Captured.

Imprisoned.

Breathing in to calm herself as age old instincts began to warm.

_You will not fear the Dark. The clawing Creeps on the inky floor…_

Burning her instincts and emotions like she had learned long ago. Only one notion came to mind: Risk Assessment and Processing.

Logically she must be in Suliden Keep, more than likely the dungeon area, or what was being used as the dungeon. Looking back on her last memory and coming to the conclusion that their camp must have been ambushed while waiting for Cullen's troops to join. Remembering the sting on her neck before she passed out. A drug of some sort.

She was bound to the ceiling and floor by metal chains and she can faintly see the runes on the shackles, chains and around the walls. She was defenseless as well – her armor and weapons gone. All that was covering her was her thin under shirt and smallclothes.

Focusing her mana on her metal binds. Only to be greeted by heavy resistance as the runes on her shackles and the walls came to life – electrifying her senses and Fade-connection. Howling out until she stopped raising her mana. The pressure ceased.

Shit.

The door of the cell came open with a loud creak. In came a slender man with auburn hair and diamond eyes and finely dressed, carrying a small tome sized box with him. Her small tendril of the Fade detected a harmful pressure from him, itching her skin.

_Demon. This must be Imshael that Michel warned us of._

Behind him, before the door closed, was two red templars. Feeling the claws on her skin from their proximity. Closing off her emotional center so that the demon couldn't read her.

It's eyes cocked at her, "Well, Lady Herald I must congratulate you on your surprise attack on this operation here. You're much smarter than what Corypheus gives you credit for. First, you take the mages away from him, then, the performance at the Winter Palace. Bravo!

"Unfortunately, he's rather tired of you and your 'Inquisitions' meddling. 'Tis up to me to salvage what I can from you. What would be your choice?"

Already tired from his talking, "You will not sway me demon," she responded calmly, almost monotonely.

He laughed haughtingly, "Is that what you think? That must have been Michel that said that too you, my agents report him in the area. Besides that, I can assure you that I am no demon, but a Choice spirit. And you do have a choice. Just like the templars who willingly serve Samson and Corypheus."

"This monologue you have is of mute point, that I assure you Imshael."

It smiled, "Really?"

Katja could feel the demon's consciousness probe her mind. Not reacting to the intrusion, keeping her thoughts blank and empty. Not even when it caused pain. Her thoughts are silent, mute and tuneless. Gaining a small flicker of frustration from the demon's entity before it fled out of her mind.

"Intriguing, but fruitless of you. Your choice will be made. But, perhaps I've not convinced you correctly? Hum?"

Taking graceful steps to a low table to put down the tome-sized box he brought with him. Then, walking behind her, trickles of it's energy poking her skin.

"I'm sure you are aware that Corypheus has spies, even a few within your Inquisition and that have given me some interesting details. However, by their accounts it isn't so secret. I've even had glimpses myself, and I can't help but be _fascinated_…"

_What in Andraste's ass is Imshael prattling about?_

Then his voice turned deeper that familiar tenor, cool armor and a warm fur mantle caressed her ear and back, "Of how much I need you my lady."

His – _it's_ – warm hand flatly rubbed from a line from her back to her tummy as it walked in front of her. He – _it_ – smiled that pulled on the scar on it's lip. It's thumb rubbing smooth circles around her belly button. It's honey, bronze eyes trying to pull her in. Missing the warm glow that made them burn.

"Is it your choice to be with me? Pardon my deception my lady, I didn't mean to do that. It's my choice to be with you as well. Corypheus has a plan – "

She spat in it's face. The spittle running down the side of it's nose to the tip of the lip scar. That was all too life-like.

Cocking it's brows, "Well, I suppose I deserve that. I truly am sorry for the deception." Pulling out a handkerchief within it's cloak with the hand that was on her tummy. Wiping away the glob of spit.

Closing her eyes and stopping her ears. She couldn't smell the earthy dried thyme or the lemon from his pomade. Or the underlining shy, sweetness to his voice when in her presence. Or the warmth from his hand. It wasn't him. An imperfect copy. Imitator.

It sighed dejectfully, hearing the steps from it's boots walk away. "I had hoped to avoid this, but I have little choice in the matter. You'll feel better love once it's over. Stronger even. Templars."

Their heavy, armored boots signaled their coming to her.

Her eyes flying open in horror as their clicking hands grabbed hold of her head and neck. Her immobile hands and feet useless – yanking and pulling the hard chains. One hand held her nose closed while the other around the bottom of her jaw – keeping her mouth open.

_"Good girl…"_

Thrashing as much as she could. The red templars hold was like stone in comparison. She couldn't move. At the corner of her eyes she saw the demon in his guise coming to her with a philter. It was glowing red.

_"Sweet girl…"_

Redoubling her efforts, even as she felt her jaw pop, her wrists and ankles stinging, surging her mana to try to escape. The runes flared again as the pain coursed through her. Keeping hold of the Fade as long as she could as she screamed for help in it. Imshael loomed over her, a smile on his scared lip as it opened the top of the philter and let the red pour into her mouth.

_"You're mine!"_

* * *

Ears picking up her plea, loud and full of pain. Feeling out that bright source on her paw-called-hand. Images flashed within his dominion before her call fell silent. The call in him strong, protective of his charge. Find her before she is lost. The red must not take her.

Finding the thinnest piece of the barrier between him and his charge, his Snow Kitten. The twisted brethren coming forth.

_I am he of a blade._ His thoughts contorting, twisting, demanding of the twists of the here. _He that is called Havardr. Obey_.

The space shuttered under his dominance, those that did not leave fell before him. Paws becoming hands and feet. Willing himself of what he was. That which is called warrior, protector, Knower-of-a-Blade, a Sword-Dancer. Unsheathing his greatsword and slicing the thin barrier, ripping it more as he passed through the rift. Leaving his spirit-mark on the Veil-scar.

Pulled down, the weight on him, senses narrowing. Shifting the unshifting. It is he who is to focus. His duty. The pull and whisper of Snow Kitten's scar hummed and called to him. That which is feet lifted from his legs_. I am he_. Proclaiming, ringing within him.

_I come._

* * *

"Commander!" Harding shouted to him above the loud battle cries. Her features weary as she ran quickly toward him.

It had been three days.

Three torturous days since Lady Katja's party was ambushed at the joint camp. Three days of him feeling his guts being ripped out. Sleep evaded him and what little he received was plagued by horrors of whatever she was enduring within the Keep. The red templars have fortified themselves well and heavily bared the front door. Making it worse, they somehow enchanted the door as well, and no matter how hard the battering ram collided, it was fruitless. Even the mages seemed puzzled. Compounding with the surprise skirmishes from atop the walls raining stones. The corrupted lyrium within them made them not tire so easily.

They even tried to "persuade" her dragon to help, to no avail. The dragon seemed to be chasing it's tail and was driving itself mad.

A gnawing thought in the back of him mind that the dragon's madness was a reflection of her own.

"Report Harding."

"We shot down a bird from the Keep," she stated quickly, "it was no doubt carrying a message to Corypheus or Samson. Here."

Handing the finely rolled paper to him as he quickly took it from her and read.

_I apologize for the delay in the update Lord Corypheus. After several attempts to give the heretic the red lyrium, it seems to have no effect in terms of your ability to control her. It simply will not grow within her. Though I must say seeing her wreath is quite pleasing. The runes and cuffs within the cell are holding her mana at bay as you said they would._

_I know you advised that the final solution should be a last resort, but I see little choice. It is either that or bringing her to you to remove the Anchor. The tools and red lyrium are ready and I have a fantastic design that would be very pleasing to you once it is on her head._

_-Imshael_

Bile rose in his throat over every syllable over the letter. Panic scratching his limbs and gnawed his thoughts. Several black thoughts raced in his mind but one was the loudest, _I'll kill the demon myself!_

Then, several things happened at once.

Loud cries came from within the camp and a loud, glowing whoosh rushed passed him to the main gate. All that he was able to discern was a lion skull and a greatsword. The magic that reinforced the gate ignited in a flurry of sparks, in a blinding second the gates exploded like gaatlock. The wood enflamed with white and gold.

The gates were open.

He had just a second to register what had happened before the red templars pooled out of the broken gates.

The thing that had caused the explosion was fighting them off. An unknown warrior. Uncaring at that point to about the unexpected ally, only the single-minded determination to save Katja.

"Charge! Take the Keep!" he shouted at the stunned troops.

His booming voice snapped his soldier's back into focus and filed into the opening. Cullen's sword and shield raised as he rushed in closer to the unknown warrior. The red templars falling beneath their blades. The techniques the warrior used were… familiar. The fluid grace, action and reaction, the quick steps that were dance-like, and the combination use of magic.

Just as the connection was made he felt unprecedented pain in his gut and a knife in his skull. Drowning out were the screams of his former brethren. He felt like he was being set on fire! Try as he will to stay upright and holding his sword. Through teared eyes he saw with horror as the red templars were set aflame. Bright, angry _red_ as their bodies were hastily consumed. The fissures that sprouted the red lyrium exploded before, they too, bursted into flame. His ears popped and he was deaf save the drumming of his heart. A consuming fog of sadness dripped into his soul but drowning that was seething _rage_ and pain. Emotions that were not his own. His palate filled with the sharp taste of copper and the dull sweetness of too-hot lyrium.

Lyrium that was coming from _inside him_!

The familiar tingle. The cooing call of the lyrium on his palate ignited his insatiable thirst. Warring with himself to spit it out or to swallow it back within.

Keep me. Want me. Thirst for _me_!

Revulsion winning as he spat out the blood in his mouth. Little flecks of blue mingling with his red spittle. Steam wafted off the spatter that went up into the cold air.

Just as quickly as the overwhelming sensation seized him, it faded away. But the ache, the cry, the _heat_ remained. Gritting his teeth to make himself stand. Only to nearly fall over if it wasn't for Bull's massive hand to steady him. When did that happen?

"Yo- -ight Cul- ? Wha- -n Kor- a- hap-nd?!" Were all the syllables he could hear above the ringing in his ears and the loud muffled cries of the burning red templars.

"I'm alright!" he shouted, or he thought he shouted.

Focusing on steadying himself and his hard, knotted stomach from vomiting. Both from whatever he experienced and from the putrid, acrid smell of burning flesh and corruption. The edges of his vision were blurry. Rays of green wrapped around his body as he felt the power of a healing spell. It was enough for him to gather more of his senses and to settle his stomach. Sweat begun to drip from his forehead from the heat like he was having a fever.

The screams of the templars fell silent. The only sound that was made was the clicking pops like wood over a fire.

An instinct creeped into his mind, silently whispering a dread that reminisces when he awoke from a nightmare. Unable to enunciate what it was, but he knew what it spoke of. He must _hurry_.

"Keep going!" Breathing in deeply before he pushed away from Bull and the close companions of Katja's. step by aching step it became easier until he was running.

In the distance, he saw that same warrior with the lion skull helm and greatsword. Following behind.

The further into the Keep, the more of the burning bodies of the red templars were found along with the fissures. The more hot he felt the further they went. His insides churning. Bones heavy.

Cullen could feel the worried eyes of the group on his back. Watching him.

Unconcerned with his own welfare at that point, only to find Katja.

His love.

Wordlessly trekking along, the plan of lighting the Veil-torch forgotten as every templar was slain, burned alive. Unneeded to their destination. Cullen could hear the worried conversations between Katja's companions. _How_ and _what_ were the main starters, followed by _where_.

The search fruitless until they entered the main sanctum. Registering the warrior with the lion skull and greatsword and Katja…

Or, what he could see of her. Her back to them.

Relief that they had found her. That she was _alive_!

His feet of their own accord before he was suddenly stopped by invisible hands on his legs and feet. The other companions in a similar state far behind him.

Only needing his eyes to see something wasn't right. Clearly making out the angry, red welts on her wrists and ankles. His gut twisted at seeing physical proof of her imprisonment. Her armor and weapons gone – only in her under shirt and smallclothes. In her left hand as the head of a High Fear demon, dripping oozing black blood. Only momentarily seeing it before it burned away like paper in a green flame.

The warrior with the lion skull acknowledged him – a trickle of something otherworldly ghosted his mind and a strong impression pressed, "No." In tune with the shaking of the warrior's head.

His throat constricting as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Fearful for her.

"Katja…" he called. Praying that he heard him.

Cullen saw a visible twitch in her body from the sound of his voice. The warrior creature lifted it's hand to stop her from turning her head to face him. Her arms lifting, a familiar tick of her hands.

"Katja…" he called softly.

_I'm here_, he wanted to say, _don't run. Please don't._

Her weary, crooked posture shifted. Standing taller as a green glow from a heal spell floated on her skin. The red welts on her wrists and ankles disappearing as the green light faded. Leaving a thin scar.

She seemed to take a deep breath and the heat and pressure he felt within himself lifted. Only the pounding in his head remained. The cold on his skin a relief. The invisible binds on his body lifted as well, along with the companion's Cullen felt a danger in the back of his mind at his slow, cautious approach to Lady Katja. Old templar instincts.

The eyes of the warrior with the lion skull helm watched him at his approach.

Only a few feet away from her did he stop and say her name, "Katja." His voice thick and hoarse with worry.

Then she turned around slowly to acknowledge him. Angry bile rose in his stomach as he saw the templar insignia dripping from her head. Mixing with the blood, ink, and red glow of lyrium. Dark yellow bruises in the shape of hands and fingers around her jaw and neck. Her red eyes dim and weary, no doubt from sleep exhaustion and whatever torture they made her suffer through. Hands shaking as he wanted to just… smash something. _Break_ something.

Also to just hold her. She was _alive_!

It didn't make it easier to know without words what they tried to do to her. Revulsion mixing in with everything else. But how…?

Doesn't matter,_ she is alive_!

Her awkward smile was misplaced on her features as she said through chapped lips, "They failed. The Keep is ours." Lady Katja's voice was broken and raspy like sand.

She needs medical attention, food, and water.

Frowning he whispered, "To the Void with the Keep." Throat thick with emotion that he was barely keeping, "I'm taking you back to camp."

Red eyes flaring as she was about to protest when the warrior behind her stopped her.

"Listen to him Snow Kitten. Remember your lessons." It's voice big and deep, the kind of voice that demanded obediance.

* * *

**[A.N.]** Thank you to allhallowsevebabe, reds-pidgeon, and Dragonmaster300 for the fav/follows. And review from Rae.


	30. Update

**Just on a bit of an update on my story since I have not posted in a long time. I have been in a writing rut for a long while (hence no updates), but I have been in an artsy mood, so I have turned my fanfic into a fancomic on my tumblr page.**

** botticella89. tumblr (.com) / A%20Mess%20of%20Blues**

**(Make sure you get rid of the spaces and parenthesis) I've gotten several pages in and I'll be updated that on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I hope those of you who are following me here will stay tuned over on my tumblr to keep up this story. Thanks very much for those of you how love this story who have commented and pm'd me.**

**\- Botticella**


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